Damian's Sister
by Littlecamo8
Summary: Two years older, Daire was kicked out of the League of Assassins when she was eleven. Now thirteen, she is out for revenge. Her mother delivered horrible news: the little brother she loved was slain by the Batman. In his final breaths, he asked his mother to find his sister, so she could take his place as heir. Unwilling to kill before, Daire goes to avenge her brother's death.
1. Information

**Summary:**

Two years older but no where near as talented as Damian, Daire was kicked out of the League of Assassins when she was eleven.

Now thirteen, she is out for revenge. Her mother delivered horrible news: the little brother she loved was slain by the Batman. In his final breaths, he asked his mother to find his sister, so she could take his place as heir.

Unwilling to kill before, Daire is now out for revenge. Her target: her brother's father.

 **Disclaimer:** I only own the characters I make up. All else goes to their respective owners.

 **Warning:** will have mild cussing, murder, fight scenes, blood, and some gore. This story also mention child abuse: mental, physical, emotional, and sexual. It might also have other triggers.

 **Other important information:**

I'm pretty sure Damian is ten in Son of Batman. He's eleven in this story. This is also after Batman vs Robin. But where Damian didn't go to the monastery.

Damian and Daire are half siblings. Same mother; different fathers. They grew up together and are close.

Damian is the favorite/ protege. Daire wasn't bad but not as talented as her grandfather and mother wanted her to be, making her the disappoint.


	2. Prologue

**~ Prologue ~**

The young girl could hear her mother's screams. She flinched, covering her ears. She wondered why the baby was hurting her mother. Why would the baby do something so mean? She couldn't understand.

Her mother had been unusually kind and relaxed during the pregnancy. She still worked out, but no where near as much as before. She didn't work little Daire as hard, either. Her grandfather switched between two moods: train to protect the future heir and gushing as his daughter and granddaughter.

Her mother didn't want for anything. She had everything handed to her. Her grandfather even had the best doctors come to watch over her and the baby, making sure the pregnancy went by without a hitch.

The young girl wondered if this was what it was like when she was in her mother's tummy. She wondered how she fit in there. She was so big. Her mother told her she was a tiny baby. At first, they didn't think she'd make it. She was so frail and sickly. They almost gave up on her, thinking about leaving her to freeze to death outside.

Now, she was tough for her age. She had plenty of training scars, and fought as furiously as anyone else in the compound. She was no where near as big or strong as the adults that surrounded her, but she was quick and agile. She had been taught to take down opponents many times her size since she could walk. She had spent every day of her young life training with her mother and grandfather.

She wasn't gifted, but she worked hard. She practiced for hours by herself, waking up early to go over moves before her sunrise training started.

Her hands flew to her ears as another high pitch shriek echoed off the walls. She wanted to run away. She didn't like hearing her mother in so much pain. She also wanted to barge into the room, to save her mother.

"It's almost over," the girl's father assured, nudging her small hand. Her parents were not together. Her mother was in love with another. She was a mistake. A product of a one night stand, whatever that meant. But they lived in the same compound, had the same leader. They were skilled assassins.

The girl looked up at her father, who stared at the blank wall ahead. He didn't want to be here, the girl knew. Her grandfather forced him to spend time with his daughter, to be here for her. She didn't know what she did to make her father hate her, but she wasn't fond of being around him, either. He had this creepy gaze in his dark eyes.

Soon, the screaming stopped. A minute later, a bold wailing started.

A baby!

Her grandfather opened the door, beckoning the child in. The girl hopped off the bench, leaving her father to see her newborn brother.

She was lifted onto the bed beside her mother, who was sweaty and pale. She looked ill, but had an unusual smile blessing her pink lips.

"Daire, meet your baby brother Damian."

The girl leaned over the little bundle. He was quiet now, his eyes scanning his surroundings curiously. He was so squishy looking. The girl gently touched his exposed cheek. A green blanket covered most of his tiny body, letting the girl see only his face.

He barely had any hair. His cheeks were plump and rosy. His eyes a bold green that matched her and her mother's. She had seen pictures of her brother's father, who was different from her own. He looked much like a baby version of the stern man.

Big green eyes blinked, staring at the girl.

"Hi, Dami. I'm your big sister," the girl greeted, smiling.

The infant let out a short giggle, a gummy smile appearing.

"Awe, he likes me!"

* * *

(AN: I know he wasn't really "born" so here's this)

The young girl looked up in the tube, where her baby brother floated, eyes closed. He was finally big enough! He was finally coming out! Daire would finally get to hold her baby brother.

She had been waiting months for this day. She wasn't to be in the room when the removal procedure happened, but she here for little Damian now. She rested her hand on the glass, watching his leg twitch, kicking the container it was in. Her mother had told her how usual pregnancies go, but her little brother had the perfect genetics. He was being watched every second of the day. The best doctors in the world were here, helping her baby brother grow.

The young girl had been told of the time when she was in her mother's tummy. She wondered how she fit in there. She was so big. Her mother told her she was a tiny baby. At first, they didn't think she'd make it. She was so frail and sickly. They almost gave up on her, thinking about leaving her to freeze to death outside.

Now, she was tough for her age. She had plenty of training scars, and fought as furiously as anyone else in the compound. She was no where near as big or strong as the adults that surrounded her, but she was quick and agile. She had been taught to take down opponents many times her size since she could walk. She had spent every day of her young life training with her mother and grandfather. She wasn't gifted, but she worked hard. She practiced for hours by herself, waking up early to go over moves before her sunrise training started.

"It's time."

A few bubbles floated up to the top, where a small blanket of air had gathered where the blue-green liquid stopped. She let out a giggle before being pulled away. She was told to wait in the hall. A nice little bench had been placed there for her to wait. She scrambled on it, smiling. She didn't know how long the procedure would take. All she knew was she couldn't wait to officially meet her baby brother.

She was eager, she could hardly sit still. He father- whom was at her side- assured, "It's almost over," nudging her small hand. Her parents were not together. Her mother was in love with another. She was a mistake. A product of a one night stand, whatever that meant. But they lived in the same compound, had the same leader. They were skilled assassins.

The girl looked up at her father, who stared at the blank wall ahead. He didn't want to be here, the girl knew. Her grandfather forced him to spend time with his daughter, to be here for her. She didn't know what she did to make her father hate her, but she wasn't fond of being around him, either. He had this creepy gaze in his dark eyes.

Suddenly, there was a sharp, long wail.

The girl leapt out of her seat, jerking back when her father's hand stopped her from going into the room too soon. She looked up at her father, but he simply shook his head. Obediently, she climbed back on the bench.

the wails didn't last long, and soon her grandfather opened the door, beckoning the child in. The girl hopped off the bench, leaving her father to see her newborn brother.

Her mother knelt down, holding a bundle of blankets. Daire walked over, seeing a plushy little face.

"Daire, meet your baby brother Damian."

The girl leaned over the little bundle. He was quiet now, his eyes scanning his surroundings curiously. He was so squishy looking. The girl gently touched his exposed cheek. A green blanket covered most of his tiny body, letting the girl see only his face.

He barely had any hair. His cheeks were plump and rosy. His eyes a bold green that matched her and her mother's. She had seen pictures of her brother's father, who was different from her own. He looked much like a baby version of the stern man.

Big green eyes blinked, staring at the girl.

"Hi, Dami. I'm your big sister," the girl greeted, smiling.

The infant let out a short giggle, a gummy smile appearing.

"Awe, he likes me!"


	3. Chapter 1: The Girl

**~ The Girl ~**

"I need you, Daire," the mother said. "Damian needs you."

The girl couldn't look at her mother. Her glare pointed at the ground. Her fists were so tight, her nails bit into her palms.

 _Crying is for the weak; crying will get me beat._

She silently chanted the rhyme her mother taught her when she was two. Crying was forbidden. Any sign of weakness was. Of course, family seemed to give some leeway but not much.

Her brother's and her relationship seemed to be the exception. Once her grandfather realized it made the duo train harder, he allowed it.

"There's no way Dami is dead," the girl protested. "He can't be." Her brother was one of the best fighters she knew. At eight years old, he put up a decent fight against Ra's Al Ghul. He never won, but he did better than most of Ra's students. He had been trained since birth. The girl was good, too, but not as talented as her little brother.

The mother stepped forward, sorrow in her green eyes. She put a light hand on her daughter's shoulder. "He's dead, Daire. My beloved killed him."

"But- But his father doesn't kill. It's not his M.O."

Her rough palm gently cupped the child's cheek. "People change, Daire. My beloved changed."

"But how did he find Damian? I thought he didn't know about him."

"Slade Wilson. Now known as Deathstroke."

"Grandfather kicked him out."

"He came back. He killed Ra's Al Ghul."

"Unlikely. The Pit would bring him back."

Talia shook her head. "His body was badly damaged. Not even the Pit could save him."

Daire took a step back. "But- but Grandfather."

Her mother was a skilled liar. She never hesitated and had the eye of a hawk. Still, Daire trusted her. What reason would her mother have to lie? While it was unlucky Ra's was dead, it wasn't impossible. Daire had seen the impossible happen. But death was death. Her grandfather had cheated death a thousand and one times. But death eventually gets everyone. There is no escaping death.

That's why Ra's Al Ghul was training Damian. Damian was the heir to the League of Assassins. He was born to kill, and he was good at it. His cold eyes and isolation made it difficult for him to act like innocent child, but people still put their guard down around the boy. He killed like his mother and grandfather before him: without hesitation. Her little brother had a soft side. He was human. Actions based on emotions weren't encouraged, but there was little they could do to stop emotions altogether. Besides, his passion was his greatest weapon.

"He's dead, Daire. They're both dead," insisted her mother. Her green eyes swarmed with strength and determination. Strangely, her eyes showed barely any sorrow or grief. But that was to be expected of the woman. She was raised from birth to be an assassin. "Help me rebuild the League. Slade Wilson and the Batman made quite a dent. Damian would have wanted you to help. You know how loyal he was to the League. Join me. Kill your brother's killer. Avenge him. Save the League. It's what Damian would want."

"It's what Dami would want," the girl repeated, closing her eyes. It did sound like him. Dami never failed. Never. He loved Grandfather, Mother, and the League of Assassins. He would have died fighting. His father must have put up quite the fight. Dami was a skilled fighter. Not like Daire. Daire could practice more than Dami and still not be as good. Dami has the talent for fighting.

"Yes. It's what Damian would have wanted," the mother assured. Daire could hear the small smile in the woman's voice. Daire wasn't much of a killer- it was why she got kicked out of the League- but she would kill if necessary. "Join me, Daughter. Help me rebuild the League your brother loved."

Daire nodded, a tear slipping down her cheek. Her mother wasn't a beggar. If she was asking for help, she needed it. Whatever shambles the League of Assassins were currently in, Daire would do her best to fix it. She would help her mother strength the League to its former glory. And when the time came, she would carry on Ra's Al Ghul's legacy.

She would not fail Grandfather.

She would not fail her brother.

Not Damian.

Not ever again.

"Yes, Mother."

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

"Robin, report," a stern voice commanded over the comlink.

Robin, a young lad, raised his hand to the com, replying, "Everything's clear," in a childish- pitched but equally stern voice.

He paused, watching a young teen boy walk beside a young woman. They laughed, the girl bumping purposefully into the boy's shoulder. The boy beamed, returning the playful gesture.

"Whatever, you're just jealous because dad bought me a new game system," the girl challenged.

"So? You have to share it with me until you leave for college!" the boy rebuked, still smiling.

"Which is in, like, six months!"

"Not if I have any say about it." The boy let out a wicked laugh, running ahead with glee.

"Thomas!" the girl called, laughing. An unease grew in her brown eyes the further her brother got. A sense of relief flood her when he stopped and turned, waiting for her to catch up.

Robin remembered the days before he put on the mask. The years he spent training to take over the League of Assassins, his birthright. He remembered his older sister. How kind, gentle, and motherly she was. He loved his mother and grandfather, he would do anything for them. But he would save the world for his lost sister. She was the main reason he agreed to be Robin and stop killing in the first place.

He wondered how time had changed her. She was smart, cunning, and skilled. Not as skilled as he was, but skilled nonetheless. He didn't see himself as stronger than her, not anymore. What she lacked in physical strength, she more than made up for in empathy. Something he struggled with. She never gave up, found unlikely success without casualties (much like his father. Honestly, he doubted they had different fathers. She was so much like his father.) and had the purest heart he had ever known. She had a strong sense of morality, despite her upbringing. Their grandfather blamed it on her early interaction with society. She had been trained to act like the child she seemed to be to get close to targets, taught what to say and how to act. Somewhere along the line, it stopped being an act.

A scream pulled Robin out of his thoughts. The boy had a gun to his head, tears in his eyes. His sister was frantically trying to bargain with the lowlife, handing over her purse without protest.

Robin leapt down and landed silently in the shadow between two buildings. Staying low, he darted across the empty street. The criminal noticed him too late, and Robin took him out with a few well placed punches.

The pair of siblings took off the moment they got the chance. Robin tied the man up. It was obvious he wanted the money for drugs. His pale, sickly skin told it all. He alerted the police, disappearing as a voice spoke to him.

He raised his hand back to the com in his ear to answer, "Just some deadbeat trying to mug someone. I took care of him." Pause. "I didn't need help. I can take care of myself." Another pause. Robin huffed but complied, "On my way."

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

The girl was panting but kept alert. Surrounded by half a dozen men, all bigger and buffer than her, she couldn't afford to lower her guard.

One charged at her, screaming. She did a back flip over him with little effort, jumping over his six foot frame. With the bamboo staff in hand, she swiped at the back of her knees. With a yelp, he crumbled.

She had less than a second to dodge the opponent creeping behind her. Having felt his quiet presence the moment he started moving, she ducked. His arms collided, sweeping over empty air. Before he could register what went wrong, he instinctively circled inwards on himself. His torso flared with pain in three places, then his head was quickly guided down to a hard knee. He let out a wince, rolling to the ground to coddle his bloody and broken nose.

The rest of the men were more weary, two charging her at once. She leapt at the one who reached her first, talking a running few steps to gain momentum. She twirled, circling her arm around his unsuspecting torso. The force of her body spinning around his waist through him off balance, and he stumbled into his partner, who had been kicked in the gut by the girl's flying legs.

The girl let her grasp of the man go, landing elegantly on the balls of her feet as the men kissed the ground. She couldn't help the smirk that graced her lips. She couldn't help but feel smug. She had missed this feeling. Feeling strong, powerful, and invincible. She only lost battles with her mother, grandfather, and talented little brother. She had been trained to win, not lose. To succeed, not fail. To kill, not die.

She wasn't going to fail her family- her little brother- again. She failed him in life, but she refused to leave him in death. She would avenge him. An eye for an eye; a life for a life.

Another set of men charged at her, hesitating. She hit the pressure points of the big one, disabling him in seconds. She did a cartwheel, going to the left to dodge a punch. She went to turn, prepared to finish the fight she was growing bored with. This wasn't challenging. Was this really how little her mother thought of her?

One of the guys she had previously taken down reached out, wrapping his hand around her ankle.

Her eyes widened as her leg was held back, not moving with her. Her arms started flailing desperately searching for balance. She managed to yank her way out of the weak grasp, refusing to fall.

She straightened, but steadied herself moments too late. Strong arms wrapped around her, firm and stiff. She squirmed, feeling for any weakness or weak spots in her cage. She cursed her age and height when her feet dangled above the ground. She could feel hot, quick breaths against her hair. Her skilled kicks weakened the hold momentarily, but then it re-tightened.

She felt the arms tighten around her, limiting her air supply. She gritted her teeth throwing her head back. With a grunt, the man stumbled back, dropping her to bring his hands to his bloodied mouth.

She flipped around, surprised but not reacting to the amount of blood falling down his chin. He pulled his hand away, his eyes widening at its contents. He didn't have time to get over his shock. The girl jumped and spun, roundhouse kick to the side of his head. He flew to the ground, a bloodied rock clicking out of his hand and against the ground.

"She broke my tooth!" he wailed, scouring the stone ground for the little white pebble.

No, Daire realized. He was looking for his tooth.

She smirked, feeling an odd mixture of pride and guilt swirl in her stomach. Thinking of her late baby brother, she pushed the guilt aside. She shouldn't feel guilt. She couldn't let her feeling guide her from doing anything but carrying out Damian's legacy. Her love for her brother would be the only emotion driving her. Guilt, sadness, pity, and any other worthless emotion would be discarded.

"My tooth!" came the cry. It was repeated a few more times. Pathetic.

She didn't have time for them.

"Sloppy," her mother scolded. "Next time, kill them."

The girl's head snapped towards her mother, ignoring the men's fearful and shocked expressions.

"They're part of the League," she reminded.

"Next time, they won't be. Besides, the League has no use for those who lose. Either win, or die." Sensing her daughter's empathy, the mother assured. "Batman nor Deathstroke showed Damian mercy. We will do the same to them. We will make the League strong and proud, for Damian."

The girl caught the sword tossed her way. The woman pointed to the three with injuries: the broken nose, missing tooth, and a third whose leg snapped on a bad fall. The bone wasn't showing, though it poked through the skin at his shin in a disturbing way. He was barely keeping in his shouts, biting his lip so hard it bleed.

"For Damian," Daire repeated, tonelessly. With three quick, precise movements, the three stopped moaning and groaning and went still.

"You three," Talia snapped to the survivors, "dispose of the bodies then return to training. You're disappointments to the League."

They scurried to their feet, not daring to oppose or challenge her authority in any way.


	4. Chapter 2: The Target

**~ The Target ~**

Ra's Al Ghul and Talia had quite a few files on the Batman. Some of the places he trained, his identity, his past, his butler, his butler's past, and the kids he took in over the years. Even DNA samples!

Ra's was more interested in his strength and ability to take over the League of Assassins and continue his work. Talia was less interested in that but still kept up to date. She had plans on how they could use his company to help the League take control of the world. Those documents were new, dating after Ra's and Damian passed.

Rather than a twisted version of doing what's best for the world, Talia flat out wanted to rule it.

On any other day, that would concern Daire, but after her baby brother's death, she could understand whatever pain their mother must be in. Not that she showed it. But surely she was mourning. She lost her father and son.

Daire pushed aside her mother's plans, focusing on her assignment. She went through every file the League had on the Batman. She also surfed the internet for articles on both Batman and Bruce Wayne. There was a lot about him, for both personas were famous, but Daire was a quick reader with an excellent memory.

It took a few hours, but Daire finally finished going through everything. She stood, stretching her unused muscles before shutting down the computer and heading out.

She wasn't quite sure what she wanted to do, but she knew she needed to move. Sitting for long periods of time made her want to move. She was used to contact movement and had a lot of built up energy just waiting to be released.

What better way to get rid of excess energy than to work out?

Daire walked into the training room, spotting Damian's clone by the punching dummy. With amazing accuracy, Clone landed a series of punches on the dummy. If the dummy wasn't bolted to the floor, he would have knocked it over.

Daire cleared her throat, trying to hold back tears. Clone looked so much like Damian (for obvious reasons) and it made Daire's heart ache at the thought of her brother's untimely death. He would never grow up, into an adult like Clone. He would have been such a handsome young man. He would surely have the looks to get anyone he pleased. With some work on his people skills, he would be quite the charmer.

Clone turned, his breath heavy with exertion.

Daire stepped forward, pointing out the few mistakes she saw. It wasn't much, but that much was to be expected from Damian or his clone.

She pointed to the spot on the dummy. She curled her fingers into themselves but not her palm. Using the nubs, she jabbed certain parts of the dummy.

"Rather than using blunt force, a quick series of jabs at pressure points will have your opponent breathless in seconds. Even the strongest man alive has pressure points. They always work. Some people can take a punch, or many, but every body has a weakness."

Without hurting him, Daire pointed out the places on Clone. He nodded, something she didn't recognize swimming in his eyes. He had had this look before, Daire had noticed.

Daire stepped back, letting Clone get into his stance.

"No," she stopped before he started. "You're form is off."

He frowned. "No, it isn't."

"For this style of fighting, yes it is. Here." She moved his limbs as she saw fit, which was odd to Clone. "I know that a tank like you won't be taught this, but I think it's important everyone learns this. Who knows, you might someone who uses this technique? If you know it, you can block it. Lean on your toes, knees bent a bit more. Not that much. There you go."

For Clone, the position felt strange, less sturdy. But he kept it. As instructed, he jabbed the dummy in quick thrusts.

He looked at Daire, who was shaking her head. "Good, but you don't need so much force. You can seriously hurt someone if you use that much force. You need some force, yes, but not much."

He narrowed his eyes. They were assassins. It was their job to hurt people.

Daire seemed to sense his confusion and smiled. She didn't comment on it but kept teaching him. Clone knew he preferred her teaching methods. They were strange, ending in less bruises and broken bones, but it was nice. She was gentle, kind, and patient with him. He enjoyed her company.

He went through the series of movements until Daire nodded and stepped in between him and the dummy.

"Good. Very good. You're a fast learner," she complimented.

He nodded, liking but not sure how to respond to the comments only she gave him.

A wave of sorrow flooded her. She whispered, "You're just like him."

Clone didn't need to hear anymore. He knew who she was talking about. He also knew his original was alive. Seeing Daire hurt like this made him want to tell her the truth. Such a kind girl didn't deserve this pain. But he knew Mother wouldn't approve. Besides, he was greedy. He wanted Daire to stay.

She straightened herself then leaned into a fighting stance. The same one he just learned. "Fight me."

Clone blinked. "What?"

"Fight me."

"But-" he remembered her earlier words, taking fear from them. "What if I hurt you?"

She smiled. "I'll be fine. I grew up here. I'm used to pain."

He burrowed his eyebrows together. It was nice to hear the truth, but the truth also had a dark twist. How could Mother be so cruel to Daire? She was kind and gentle and nice. She wasn't like anyone he ever met, though that wasn't saying much.

"I don't want to hurt you."

Daire kept smiling, her eyes relaxed. "Don't worry, Clone. I'll be fine. Fight however you want."

Though he was skeptical, he sunk into usual position, striking first. Daire was quick and light on her feet. She had dodged the blow with ease. Clone blinked, picking up some slack. He had taken it too easy on her.

He threw another punch, gasping when Daire sidestepped, grabbed his wrist, and began to flip him over. She stopped a moment before he should've been lifted off the ground. They paused for another moment, then Daire released him.

"Again."

Clone got back into his familiar stance, know full well he could beat Daire even without the new moves. She was right, they were nice to know, but he wasn't like her. He was bigger and stronger.

He lounged into another punch. She dodged it, but wasn't expecting the immediate second punch. His fist collided with her chest, bordering her neckline, and sent her flying back.

With anyone else, Clone would have continued. But not with Daire. He was sure he had hurt her. He lowered his stance, eyes wide. But Daire wasn't affected as much as he thought. She pushed her hand against the ground, doing a one handed back hand spring and landing elegantly on her feet.

"Good," she coughed but didn't slow. She charged at Clone, making him hastily put back up his guard. She threw a series of quick jabs at him. He barely managed to dodge any, but he knew Daire was taking it easy on him. She wasn't hitting the exact pressure points. Or not all of them, at least.

But she was right, he was out of breath and sore within thirty seconds of her assault. When she jumped back, his limbs felt heavy and he panted.

She was patient, letting him catch his breath.

His shifted his stance into the new one, the one he just learned. Daire shifted, too, her stance seemingly sturdier, her eyes alert.

This time, she struck first.

Clone's instinct was to jump back. His mind automatically swung his arm to block the attack, knowing where the attack would be. Daire gave him a quick nod before striking again. This time faster. The pattern continued, her slowly increasing speed, until he had problems blocking her attacks.

Then she bounced around like a kangaroo. When would press her fingers against a new pressure point but not jab him like she should have. She showed him dozens of new pressure points around the body. He was almost surprised at how many weaknesses the human body had.

Daire carefully explained the importance of blocking certain series of jabs, which had potential to leave one temporarily paralyzed. Gently, she went through the motions, gently tapping the places he should always be weary of.

She taught him a few other tricks over the next three hours of constant training. They only stopped twice for water breaks, and both were sweating by the time Talia entered.

"There you are," she snapped. "I thought I told you to get the jet ready."

Clone realized the time, body tense. "Yes, Mother. Sorry, I forgot."

Mercilessly, she slapped him. "I don't want excuses." She turned to Daire. "And I thought I told you to learn everything about my beloved before you left."

Without emotion, Daire responded, "I did."

Not wanting to face Talia's wrath, Clone left when she started questioning her daughter.

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

Daire arrived at dinner late, with a limp and a few bruises on her exposed skin. Clone widened his eyes in shock. He knew it wasn't him who left those marks.

Daire sat down beside Clone after getting her food. She was unusually quiet, keeping her gaze downwards when Talia entered a minute later.

Clone felt a wave of something, but he didn't quite know what it was. He knew he didn't like seeing his sister like this, and he knew he was mad at his mother for hurting her. But what could he do? If he couldn't beat Daire, he surely couldn't defeat Talia.

Instead, he kept quiet, carefully watching Daire as she ate her single roll. It was the only food she received, probably by her mother's orders. Talia was strict and didn't take failure well. She was especially harsh on her own child, whom she expected perfection from.

He knew it all too well, but it was in his blood to be perfect. It was why he was created.

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

Clone knew something was wrong with Daire. He didn't know how or why he knew, but he knew.

He walked down the halls, searching for her room. She had taken her old room, but it was right next to his original's old room. It was also near Mother's room.

He stopped outside Daire's room. He kept silent, knowing he would get in serious trouble if Mother caught him. She hated the weakness of emotions.

But he had to know if his sister was okay.

He raised his hand to knock then froze. There was a weeping sound coming from the original's room. Damian's room.

Quietly, he opened the door, whispering, "Daire?"

She sniffed. "Yeah, Clone?"

He opened the door further. "Are you okay?" He honestly didn't know why he asked, but it seemed right. She was crying; she wasn't okay.

"Yeah, I will be," she assured, sniffing again.

Will be? So not now?

He came all the way into the room, shutting the door behind him. It was dark but his eyes were adjusted. A single candle flickered near the bed.

He looked around. Other than a small layer of dust, the room was in perfect condition. The area around the bed was dust-free. Daire's doing, no doubt. She once told him she wanted to leave the room just how Damian left it, despite the plain-ness of it all.

"Do you want someone to talk to?" Daire had told him talking to someone was nice and helpful. She told him it took this invisible weight off one's shoulders.

"S- Sure," she hiccuped.

Clone made his way over to the bed, sitting at the foot, beside Daire. She clutched the hard pillow, digging her nose into it. He heard her inhale deeply, then pull away to let out a quiet sob.

He didn't know what to do. All he knew was that he hated seeing his sister like this, all sad.

"Sometimes, talking about something helps," Daire had said.

"Will you tell me about him? About my original? About Damian?"

She shook her head. "Don't call him the original. You may have the same DNA, but it doesn't mean you're any less real. Identical twins can be very different." She peered up at the fully grown version of her baby brother and tears sprang to her eyes once more. "You look so much like him," she breathed, squeezing her eyes shut. "But yeah, I'll tell you about Damian."


	5. Chapter 3: The City

**~ The City ~**

Daire Al Ghul walked through the dim courtyard. The setting sun making the shadows longer.

Her eyes blindfolded, she was heavily dependent on her hearing. The wind was not on her side, loud enough to make a dull roar around her. Still, she walked with confidence. While it had been a while since she took this challenge, it was not her first.

He hadn't meant to, but her first opponents grazed his foot against the ground, alerting her of his presence. Without hesitation, she swiped her sword at him. She heard a clang, their swords met. Ducking down, she took another swipe for his unprotected abdomen. She heard his shocked gasp and heavy stumbling.

Daire had heard him fall and marched up to him. She heard the desperate wind from the sword, barely blocking it in time. She caught her boot on the blade, holding it to the ground.

The man opened his mouth, begged for mercy.

" _End him_ ," she knew her mother would say. Daire didn't wait for the command and took the initiative, making his death quick.

By the end of the challenge, Daire was panting. Blood ran down her face and she cradled her right arm to her chest. She leaned on her left leg, leaning forward slightly. She had many cuts, most deep, but she did her best to ignore them.

At her mother's command, she removed the blindfold. She blinked at first, adjusting to the sudden light. Her eyes scanned the bloodied ground. She pushed the guilt aside, knowing she was doing this for her brother. She started into her mother's eyes, waiting.

With a firm nod, Talia declared, "You're ready."

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

Daire forced herself not to cough. She wondered how people tolerated all the smog. She couldn't even see the sun. She could feel it's warmth, see it's light, but not it.

She was walking around the city, glaring at anyone who came within two feet of her. She walked with such confidence and fast strides, people naturally made way for her. But few challenged her, probably because of her young age.

A tourist map in hand, she soaked in every bit of information she could. Which alleys had fire escapes, were dead ends, good for hiding, great routes of escape, everything.

She stayed out all afternoon, exploring. She walk all around Gotham, memorizing everything she deemed important or useful. If she was to take on Batman in his city, she'd need to know his city like the back of her hand.

As dusk fell, she ducked into an alley, changing into the outfit her mother told her to wear. It wasn't a normal League uniform. None of the men she had with her wore it. Her mother wanted to keep the League's participation in this mission quiet. For now.

Daire didn't understand why but went along with it. There was something her mother wasn't telling her, but it couldn't have been that important if it was being kept a secret. Her mother would have told her anything and everything she needed to know about the mission.

Her hood on and mask raised, she climbed the fire escape. She hopped along the roofs, keeping a low profile. She didn't want to run into the Batman before she was ready. The mission would be over soon, but not so soon. Batman was skilled in battle and difficult to defeat. Hell, her grandfather couldn't beat him. Luckily, she'd have the element of surprise on her side.

Daire heard a sudden scream, followed by a gunshot. She darted towards the commotion, seeing two teens and a mugger. No one seemed hurt. The shot must have been a warning one.

The girl teen was obviously a couple years older. The boy was undecided, partly behind his sister and partly by her side. He wanted to protect her but he also wanted to be protected.

The girl was hastily emptying her purse, throwing whatever money or valuables she had at the mugger.

Daire jumped down, gracefully landing on her feet. The building had only been one story, but she still felt the jolt of contact. She used the excess energy to roll forward. Her leg kicked out, hitting the man's knee.

He let out a grunt, collapsing. Daire swiped the gun from his hands, twirling it in hers as she stepped back. She waited for his next move. With any luck, he'd learn his lesson and scurry off like the art he was.

She was trying to keep a low profile.

No such luck. With a growl, he lunged forward. Daire sidestepped, placing two strategic kicks as he flew by. He landed with a heavy thud, groaning at the forming bruises.

This time, Daire pointed the gun at him. When the mugger turned around to attack, he froze. Hands up in surrender, he slowly rose to his feet and back away. At the entrance of the alley, he sprinted off and out of sight.

"Thank you so much!" the girl gushed, pulling Daire into an unexpected hug. She tensed, not used to the kind gesture. The girl pulled back before Daire could relax. "I haven't seen you before. Are you new?"

Daire shook her head, putting her finger to her lips. Leaving the confused kids behind, she darted back up to the roof.

"Thanks!" the boy called out.

Daire ran for several minutes, getting to higher ground. Her chest squeezed with longing and tears sprang to her eyes.

The girl had bright green eyes. The boy had raven black hair and held himself with confidence. Not as much as Damian, but it was enough.

She leaned sat down, leaning against the border of the roof. Her eyes shut, flashes of her little brother flooded her mind.

She gripped her hands into fists, a wave of determination crashing over her.

Batman would pay for what he did. Daire would make sure of it.

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

Damian Wayne found himself stuck at a gala for one of his father's charity foundations. He hated the snug suit around him. He hated the imbeciles at the party. Hated their naivety and ignorance. Hated how they wasted their lives doing nothing.

Not like him. Not like his father, either. Both father and son did a lot to help Gotham. Few people knew of their nighttime activities, but he wasn't Robin for the spotlight or fame.

He heard a loud laugh. His father. With a glass of champagne in hand and a fake smile on his lips, he was surrounded by half a dozen women. Two sat on either side of him, leaning as close as possible. They all clung to his every word. Damian rolled his eyes with a quiet scoff.

The masquerade was a sham. It wasn't hard to tell who was who under the revealing masks. It made him wonder how no one put together how him and his adopted brothers were Robin. Their mask only covered their eyes. Now the cowl covered much of Batman's features, so that was understandable. But Robin? He was surprised no one had figured it out yet.

"Hello, Robin," a light voice sung in his ear.

To speak of Satan!

He spun around, shocked. He caught the whisp of black hair. A domino mask covered the girl's eyes, but she looked amused at his shock. Through the mask, he knew she was looking directly at him.

Without another word, she slipped into the crowd.

"Wait!"

A few people noticed his cry but quickly returned to their own beings.

"Wait!"

He pushed through a group of people, disrupting their conversation. They made small remarks but let him pass.

The shiny hair reflected the light off the chandelier, catching his attention. He looked, seeing the domino mask and the smile. He dove after her, never managing to catch her.

She was about his age, though a year or so older. Not many kids came to the galas, but that wasn't what caught his attention.

He wasn't entirely sure what caught his attention. Probably the fact that she recognized him as Robin. For once, he was glad his father hadn't outed him to the public yet. Still, there was something else about her. Something familiar but also. . . not. He needed to speak with the girl. He chased her around the ballroom, following when she slipped into a side hall.

She was quick and stealthy. Damian couldn't even hear her breathing in the silent hall. Guard up, he softened his own breath, hands twitching for a weapon that wasn't there.

Opposite of Grayson's teachings, his father didn't want Damian to have a weapon on his person unless he was Robin. It wasn't that he needed a weapon to kill, but it showed the lack of trust between the new dynamic duo.

Damian barely reacted in time. He leapt back, dodging the blade aimed for his ribs. He faced his attacker, eyes narrowing. She went straight for another attack. Though Damian recognized the technique, he knew there was a lack of force in the moves. This person didn't want him dead. So what did she want?

Doesn't matter, he decided, sinking to the ground and swinging his leg out to knock his opponent down. He had questions of his own. Like how did she know his moniker? How much does she know?

She fell heavily to the ground, immediately rolling back and to her feet. A strand of hair fell from the hood she had thrown on during his pursuit. She made no move to tuck it back in nor any kind of acknowledgement it was there. Her covered eyes stared at him.

"Who are you?" he demanded to know.

She didn't answer.

They exchanged blows. Damian was winning. With each attack, his opponent was falling back. He smirked, pushing her further back.

The pattern continued until she had her back to the wall. Before Damian could blink, she threw the window beside her open.

oOoOo

Daire climbed out a window, waiting for Robin to come close before leaping off the edge. Without hesitation, he followed her.

Robin was impulsive, making her mission to lead him away easy. Too easy. If it weren't for his careless and quick eagerness to follow Daire, no matter the direction she led them, she would have suspected a trick.

It took longer than planned, but Daire wanted to be sure there wasn't some sort of trap. Daire finally brought Robin to the others.

Daire was studying her soundings, looking for something. With her attention elsewhere, Robin took the opportunity to attack. Daire did a back flip, jumping out of his reach.

The new angle was perfect. Daire spotted Clone in the shadows, saw him nod once. With a quick gesture, a dozen League members jumped out of their hiding places.

Robin glared but didn't seem caught off guard. As the others moved in, she backed off. Robin easily fought three off at once. Some of his moves were familiar. Daire recognized the style, but Batman had fought her grandfather and mother many times. It was no surprise that he'd teach Robin how to fight.

But there were moves she recognized from other places, other styles. Few she didn't recognize at all.

Needless to say, Robin was good.

He'd beat the dozen enemies before him in no time.

With one last signal, Daire ordered Clone to join the fight then disappeared into the shadows. She knew Clone had given Batman some kind of clue as to where to meet. She ran north, to an abandoned factory. No one would disturb them here.

Standing on the roof, Daire looked out into the night. She wasn't high enough off the ground or close enough to watch Robin and the League members battle. If they were still fighting. Daire wouldn't be surprised if Clone and Robin were the only ones dueling.

A car flew down the street, stopping abruptly outside the factory. The man in the cowl marched inside. Went around to a side entrance, but found his way in nonetheless. With a smirk, she turned to find my own way inside.

It was time Daire met the infamous Batman.

It was time she killed him.


	6. Chapter 4: The Batman

**~ The Batman ~**

Daire raised her mask, leaving her green eyes to be seen under her black hood. She was silent, unnoticeable. She wasn't sure what Clone did to draw Batman towards her, but she was thankful. The mission had already taken longer than anticipated.

Without warning, she leapt off the platform, diving at Batman. He barely blocked her sword in time with a bat-a-rang.

With the element of surprise lost, Daire tightened her grip on the sword, staying low to the ground. She already knew his basic attack patterns, so she didn't hesitate to charge at him. Put him on the defense.

Bat-a-rangs in hand, Batman blocked or dodged every attack she made.

"Who are you?" he questioned at some point. "Where's Robin?"

She refused to answer in anything but another attack, followed through with a grunt.

"Do you know who's behind this?" he tried again, dodging the swishing blade. It nipped his cape, which flowed behind him. He glanced at the cut fabric with irritation. Even through his masked eyes, Daire knew the gaze. It was one she was all too familiar with.

Daire took the opportunity to launch a flail of attacks, which the Dark Knight met each thrust and swing in time to only get a few nicks. If Grandfather could see her now. . . he'd be ashamed. Disappointed.

It wasn't the fact that she was losing. Well, not completely. Her anger and grief fueled her, causing sloppy and exaggerated moves. It was not the way of the League. Not the way she had been taught.

But she found herself rather dependent on the emotions.

"Stop," Batman ordered, twisting the sword out of her hand. The sword clattered to the metal ground, but Daire pulled out her spare knives, charging again. "Stop this. Now." In another series of moves, Batman had one-upped her again, pulling one arm behind her back and twisting the other one, loosening both grips.

The smaller blades clattered noisily to their feet while Daire squirmed, looking for a weak spot in the tightening grip.

"Give up," the deep voice growled in her ear.

She was yanked closer to him, sending a wave of panic through her. Memories forced themselves to the front of her brain, taking over her sight. She struggled to remain in the factory she and Batman were in. Struggled not to go back in time.

Instinctively, she flipped the man over her shoulder. Without a word, she dove in for the final blow.

Unexpectedly, Batman threw his leg out with a grunt, knocking Daire over.

He pinned her wrists to the ground, straddling her small body. "Who are you?" When she didn't answer, he continued, "Who's behind this? Who do you work for?"

She flinched as his voice raised, making him back off. Without releasing her, he took some of his weight off her.

"You don't have to do this. You don't have to kill. There's always another way."

Thoughts of her dead baby brother filled her mind, pushing fear and anxiety carelessly to the side.

With a roar and incredible strength, she pushed him back. He went into a roll, quickly getting back up and dodging the series of attacks sent his way.

"You don't have to do this!" he growled.

Daire ignored his protests, annoyed at his lack of offense. She had heard Batman had a soft side for kids and she knew she was short for her age, but this was ridiculous.

After a few rounds, Daire back off to catch her breath. Batman never took his eyes off her.

He jumped, not expecting something. He heard something Daire hadn't. He paused, holding his hand to the side of his head. A com.

"Copy," he reported.

Keeping his attention on Daire, he reached into his belt. Before Daire could do anything about it, smoke bombs bounced. Smoke filled their surroundings, but Daire simply stood there. She knew going after him would be fruitless. For now.

But next time.

Next time she'd kill him.

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

"How'd it go?" Clone asked when Daire returned to the safe house. "Is the mission over?"

"Not yet," she growled, surprising him with her bitter tone. She flipped down in a chair, slipping her hand down to slip something from underneath.

A photo.

Clone had seen this photo before. It was one of little Daire and Damian at a playground. It was the only one the siblings had ever been to, and it had been for their first mission together.

The sun was bright but few people were around. The coats the children were wearing suggested of frigid temperatures. Both beamed into the camera, spots of blood littering their clothing, hair, and skin.

It was one of two pictures Daire had of Damian. One of the few their Grandfather and Mother found worth taking.

It was the one she held close.

"Tell me about him," Clone suddenly demanded.

"What?"

"Please, tell me about him. About why you love him."

Daire relaxed, frowning. "I love him because he's my brother. Was. Was my brother. I love him because he gave me hope in the nightmare that was my life. I love him because of his innocence and determination. All he ever wanted was to be loved, unconditionally. While both adored him, neither Mother nor Grandfather could give him that."

"Why not?"

Daire shrugged, "I don't know. He loved them without question. To him, they could do no wrong. He idolized them, did his best for them, pushed his limits to see the pride in their eyes. But, for whatever reason, it was never enough. Mother and Grandfather only saw the power, the strength in him. They did their best to smother any weakness, emotions, and childlike tendencies."

"Those are weaknesses." Talia had told him that many times.

"No," she denied. "Emotion can help in battle. Not always, for example: tonight. But a strong one, like love, can win wars. It can change people for the better. Make them do the impossible."

"And you love Damian?" Clone checked.

"Without a doubt," she nodded.

"And me?"

With the tenderness Clone had only seen from her, she smiled up at him. "Of course."

"Is it hard to love?"

"No," she answered immediately. "But it can be dangerous. While it brings out good in people, it can also bring out the bad. Like with me. I'm prepared to kill, the one thing I promised to never do again, for D- Dami. I'm willing to take a life. An eye for an eye."

"It sounds like love hurts."

"Oh, it does."

"Then why love at all?"

She glanced up at him as if the answer was obvious. But she answered anyways. "Because the happiness, the laughter, the joy is worth it. Every single moment with the person you love is worth it. Whenever I was with Dami, I was happy. Even in training, I was happy. I loved seeing the glow in his eyes whenever he was praised. He acted nonchalant about it, but he soaked the attention up. Needed it. It was like water to him. It kept him going, even when he couldn't go anymore."

Clone frowned. Was that why his heart fluttered every time Daire complimented him? Did Daire see the same light in his eyes? Was that why she loved him, because he looked and acted like the original?

Looking at the horizon, she continued. "Sometimes, I see so much of my baby brother in you, it almost makes me cry."

Clone frowned. He didn't want Daire to be sad. And just by looking at him? That definitely wasn't what he wanted.

"Sometimes you act so much like him, too. But then you do or say something he never would, and I'm reminded you are not him."

"Does- Does it make you sad?"

"Of course it does. He was my baby brother. I'll always love him."

"A- And-?" he couldn't finish the question, too afraid of the answer.

But Daire seemed to know. "And you?" She leaned into his side. His arm instinctively wrapped around her back, his hand resting on her shoulder. "You're like the big brother I dreamed of having. You're brave and strong, kind and patient. It took a bit of time with me to get you that way, but it was time well spent. Just like anyone else, you deserve to be happy."

"I am happy. I was happy."

She glanced up at him, not believing him. But he didn't blame her. He didn't believe himself. She went along with it, squeezing him into a side hug. "Good. You deserve to be happy."

"Daire?"

"Hmm?"

"Are- Are you my- my sister?"

"Yes, we have the same Mother and Grandfather. Clone or not, you have my blood in your veins, a beating heart, feelings, and are you're own person."

"How do you know?"

She squeezed him again. "Because you openly like hugs, just like me. Dami did, but he would always deny it. And yes, sometimes he didn't like physical contact, but overall he did."

"How else are we different?"

"Hmm. Let's see. You tend to go along with things without reason. Dami was pretty bad about that, too, but he would ask questions, look for reason."

"I ask questions," Clone argued, defensively.

"I've never seen you ask Mother a question. I've never heard you call her anything other than Ma'am to her face."

"She isn't my mother. Not really. She didn't birth me, not like you and my original."

"So what? You're her son! Half her DNA is in you! That aside, you can have a family without being the same blood. All you need is love, respect, and each other."

"Where did you learn that nonsense?" he asked, though he really wanted to believe it.

She shrugged. "My time away from the compound, the League. I made a few friends. Good ones."

"Where are they now? How come I've never heard of them?"

Daire smirked up at him. "Protective big brother much?" Before he could retract his questions, she cut him off. "Its fine. It's nice to know someone cares. Anyways, I cut ties with them. Being a part of the League- being at the head- is dangerous. Keeping a friendship with them would put them in danger. It'd be selfish, so I let them go."

"Don't you miss them?" Clone wondered.

"Of course I do. Just like how I miss Dami. A bit less than Dami, probably, but you get my point. That Daire is dead. After this mission, I'm going to be the best heir (besides Dami) that Grandfather could wish for." More to herself and in a whisper, she added: "I'll make them both proud."

"Would- Do you think Damian would like me?"

Startled by the question, she needed a minute to ponder. "Um, he didn't like many people, but I don't see why not. In a way, you are him. But then again," she trailed, eyeing him up and down, "you're also different. Maybe." Seeing Clone's deflated expression, she pushed, "Probably. With your talent and dedication, he'd certainly respect you."

The compliments and the declaration brought a soft smile to his face. Then hesitation. "Do you- What do you think of me?"

"Me? Well, what's not to like? You're handsome, strong, funny, nice, you pay attention; you're amazing, kind, unique, and the big brother I've always wanted. You're perfect, Clone, just the way you are, okay? So don't go changing on me."

Clone blushed lightly at the praise, loving the warm feeling of his little sister leaning into his side, pulling him into a hug. He closed his eyes, resting his cheek of the top of Daire's head.

Daire glanced up, barely catching sight of the smile dancing at Clone's lips. It hurt, seeing what Damian would have looked like if he'd grown up. It hurt, seeing the wonderful, caring person both he and Clone could become. It hurt, losing her brother before she could save him. It hurt, she loved and missed him so much. It hurt.


	7. Chapter 5: The Dynamic Duo

**~ The Dynamic Duo ~**

Daire and Clone were in a hotel room, curtains ajar. The door was locked tight, and a television provided background noise.

Daire finally moved her gaze, lowering the binoculars and handing them to Clone.

"He's not doing anything," Clone observed. He was in the same place he was ten minutes before, which was the last time he got a turn with the binoculars. He was so bored. He wondered how Daire managed to stay focused on something so dull. "Now would be easy to carry out the mission." He glanced at the sniper rifle laying proudly on the bed.

Daire, not glancing at him, knew what he meant. "That's not the way the League does things."

"Sometimes they do."

Daire sent him a stern warning look. "That is only to be used as a last resort. We came here for a job. Do not fire unless I give the signal, and for the love of God don't shoot me!"

Clone frowned. Why would she feel the need to say that? To him, it was fairly obvious. What kind of moron had she been forced to team up with in the past?

Daire left the room, her strides purposeful. She let the door slam shut behind her, letting it lock automatically by itself.

Clone lifted the rifle, setting the tripod and gun on the table. He may not have as many hours of practice as Daire, but he was always told his genetics gave him an upper hand for everything. He'd had enough practice to know he was a great shot.

Not perfect, like Daire (yet), but skillful.

He watched the lazy, fat man though the scope, finger extended passed the trigger, straight but ready. The target jerked his head towards the door, muttering something under his breath as he forced himself up.

He walked back into the room, this time followed by Daire. She was in a black outfit with a white apron. Excluding the apron, she did not appear to be one of the employees. The man didn't seem to care, letting her right into his room. She pushed a cart flooded with shiny plates, contents hidden by big domes.

He waved her off, saying something Clone couldn't hear. Clone felt his anger rise when Daire bent over some to appear to do some last minute preparations for the man's food. She was actually putting on her mask. The sick eyes stared at the rising skirt. Clone wrapped his finger over the trigger, wanting to pull it.

Then Daire turned around, a large knife in hand. The man didn't seem the least bit frightened. Surprised but not fearful. The man responded to her, so Clone assumed she said something. He couldn't see her clearly. She danced right along the edge of his sight.

Boldly, Daire strutted up to the man. She leaned forward, and the man's greedy eyes flickered to her bust. Clone clenched his teeth.

Suddenly, Daire's arm flew, and the man's eyes widened in pained shock.

Daire spun around, catching his stare. She sent a quick signal: it was time to leave. She pulled off her apron, hiding the bloody cloth under her arm. She bunched it up just right, hiding stains from prying eyes. She away walked casually.

Side mission: complete.

Time to focus on Batman again.

Swiftly, Clone packed up and left.

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

"What did you just do?" a deep voice asked Daire.

Daire didn't answer, throwing a star.

Batman, of course, dodged it with ease.

Daire knew the bat worked mainly at night, but she didn't expect him to catch her red handed. She kept her breath even. She was trained for this. Batman wouldn't escape.

Two heads with one blade. Nice.

At least Daire wouldn't have to waste time trying to catch his attention and find him. Here he was, standing before her.

Presented to her just like a gift.

"Robin, don't!" Batman ordered, giving Daire a heads up.

She ducked to the side, getting out of the way. Robin landed heavily on the spot she had been standing. That move. . . Could it be?

No. Impossible.

Daire rushed forward, trying to take out Robin. Everyone knew Robin was Batman's weakness. If she could take down Robin, Batman's focus would be split. He would be easier to kill.

Robin, however, blocked her punch, leaning into one of his own. With her other arm, she barely managed to redirect it. She spun around, twisting Robin's arm behind his back. She tugged upwards, making him grit his teeth.

Batman darted forward to help his partner, but Daire forced a step back, bringing her knife to his throat.

She clicked her tongue in a taunting warning. As expected, Batman froze.

"Don't. You. Dare," he growled.

The knife pressed deeper into Robin's skin. Daire knew she wouldn't do it. Robin wasn't her target. And she didn't kill kids. Robin was safe from her wrath.

But Batman didn't know that.

Robin sucked in a breath, and Daire could tell he was about to speak. She dug the knife further into his skin, careful not to break it. She didn't want to hurt him.

His voice croaked, "Batman, do it."

Batman didn't move, his worry for the boy preventing action.

Daire suddenly released the boy, using his shoulder as leverage to flip over him. Her feet firmly together, she kicked Batman right in the face. He stumbled back from the force, and Daire quickly went to work.

With his build, she knew her weight wouldn't keep him pinned down. She was relying solely on his shock. She twirled the knife, aiming it to drive deep in his neck. Deep enough to kill, but not instantly. Daire wanted his last moments alive to be bitter and painful. Chocking on his own blood seemed good enough. She had wanted to draw out his death- torture him- but from his files, it would be a poor choice. He had a nasty habit of escaping. So, this would need to be quick. But it didn't need to be painless.

A blunt disk smacked her hand, sending the knife flying. The blade grazed Batman's chin, leaving a shallow cut.

At this point, Batman had recovered, rolling them over and pinning her down. She grunted, fighting to free her wrists from his firm grip.

"Who. Are. You?"

She didn't answer, continuing to struggle. The position was forcing her back in time, and she began to shake. Her breathing picked up, and her struggles became blind and desperate.

The bat wouldn't relent. He eased his hold but kept her down.

Daire forced herself back to reality. Gritting her teeth, she brought up her leg, making Batman roll over in pain. He wore a cup, so he'd get over the pain quicker

Daire darted forward, reaching for his neck. If she couldn't slice his throat, she'd snap his neck. Not a painful death, but her brother's murder would be avenged.

Suddenly, a leg swung out, forcing her back. Daire let out a grunt, rolling onto her hand and pushing herself up. She landed gracefully on her feet, her gaze catching the knife she lost.

Robin let out a yell, lunging for her. She flipped over him, but he expected it and yanked her down. Her hand flew to the part of her mask around her mouth, struggling to keep her face hidden.

Daire hit the floor, her head bouncing. Before she could blink away the dots, she swiped Robin's legs out from under him. She rolled onto of him, pressing harshly onto a pressure points.

In seconds, Robin was unconscious.

Or he should have been.

Moments before he went out, she was yanked back. A mad bat threw her back, no longer caring for her age.

"Where'd you learn that?" he growled.

Daire blinked, wondering if he recognized the move. It hadn't been a part of her training with the League. It was something she learned before their mother deemed Damian old enough to be sent away. Most of his training was done with the League. Daire had a few trainers outside the League.

She ran over the list of places the Batman trained. According to the files the League had on him, he shouldn't have known. But, as powerful as the League was, they didn't know everything. And Batman was hard to keep track of at times.

Robin let out a string of coughs, his masked eyes glancing up in almost disbelief. "Batman-"

Before he could say anything else, Daire threw down a smoke bomb.

She wasn't a fool. She had lost this battle.

But she'd get another chance. And she'd win the war.

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

"Where have you been? I've been worried sick!" Clone proclaimed the moment Daire stepped into the safe house. He rushed to the door, yanking her inside.

Daire smiled, remembering the time she taught him the phrase. "I ran into the infamous dynamic duo," she casually answered.

Clone's attention peaked, eyeing her for injuries. None were noticeable. "Batman? Are you hurt? What happened?"

Daire gave him a reassuring touch, resting her hand on his arm before shrugging off her gear. "I'm fine. Almost got him, too, but his pesky little sidekick got in the way."

"We'll get him," she was assured.

She stiffened. "I know. I'll avenge my little brother if it's the last thing I do."

Clone's heart clenched at the thought of her dying. She was unbeatable. He couldn't believe she'd lose a battle, let alone die in one. It just wasn't something he could imagine. Not something he wanted to imagine, either. While he loved his biological mother, this blood sister of his had taught him kindness, love, care, and how to smile. Daire is the one who taught him gentleness and tenderness. He remembered, at first he thought the girl was foolish. Thought the way she stop to watch a butterfly or a bird was a waste of time. Thought the way she didn't hit to kill was weak.

But now he knew better.

Killing doesn't mean you are strong.

Knowing when and when not to kill is intelligence. Acting on that knowledge is patience. And not killing when provided the chance is strength.

Talia Al Ghul didn't believe that, though.

It was where mother and daughter butt heads the most.

Talia wasn't for killing all willy nilly (as Daire once put it) but neither does she go out of her way to protect civilians. She'd sooner kill everyone to get to her target, regardless of innocence. To Talia, the end justify the means.

"Have you ever thought about a name?"

"Hmm?" he hummed, pulled out of his thoughts.

"A name. Ever thought of getting one?"

"My name is Clone."

Daire sighed, "No, it's not. It's what you are."

"Isn't that a name?"

"I'm human. It doesn't make my name Human. Damian is the original, doesn't make his name Original."

He nodded, understanding. "A name? For me?"

"Yeah, surely you don't want to be called Clone forever." Daire nonchalantly made her way to the kitchen. She made a quick stop at the freezer, pulling out an ice pack and pressing it to the back of her head. She flung the pantry open, frowning at the lack of nutritious food. She settled for a package of Pop Tarts, muttering about going to the store later.

Clone didn't know of many names. To be honest, it wasn't something he thought about. He was known as Clone. Being the only surviving clone, he thought the name was of honor.

"Any ideas?"

Daire plopped down on the used couch, popping a piece of her snack into her mouth.

"Not really," he admitted. He glanced at the ice pack she held. "What happened?"

She shrugged, nonchalantly. "Like I said, ran into the infamous dynamic duo."

"Did they hurt you?"

"It's nothing I can't handle."

Clone shook his head, remembering when he had said that to her. "That's not what I asked."

She must have remembered too, for she gave a small smirk.

She flipped on the television, quietly warning, "Emotional attachment is dangerous, you know."

And that worried Clone. That shoulders a lot like her mother and not at all like Daire. But he didn't say a word.


	8. Chapter 6: The Joker

**~ The Joker ~**

The night was long. Daire spent hours typing on her laptop, going over the previous night's events. Learning from her mistakes. She went over the fight at least fifty times, breaking down every move made and thinking over what she could have done differently.

She let out a ticked grunt, slamming her fist against the table.

Clone didn't comment, simply asked if she had slept.

Yeah, a few hours, but that was all she claimed to need. She had more important things to spend her time on. According to her, sleep wasn't one of them.

For a moment, Clone worried. This was the same girl who forced him to sleep just two weeks ago, rattling on about the importance of it. This was the same girl who two weeks ago, wouldn't have killed to ruthlessly. Was Gotham changing her or the League of Assassins? He didn't know.

When she was done with her laptop, she went to the television. She turned on a mindless show, but Clone was sure she wasn't really paying attention to the screen. Knowing her determination and hate for the Batman, she was planning how to take him down.

"I'm going to shower," Clone informed when he finished his breakfast. He dumped his bowl in the sink, making his way to the bathroom. Daire made no response, and Clone wasn't sure if she heard him- she had the dreadful habit of tuning out the world- but he knew better than to bother Daire in the mood she was in. He hadn't done it before, but he had seen what happened to the poor soul who did. And that wrath was not something he wanted aimed at him.

At least he knew why people at the temple called her "Demon Spawn," a title so unlike the sweet, kind girl he first met.

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

Daire had heard of the clown before. As Batman's greatest foe, he was researched along with him. Well, a lot of Batman's main villains were studied. But the clown was at the top of the list.

His laughter was annoying, it being the only sound as he took over the broadcasting services.

"Hello, ladies and gentlemen! It is I, your dear friend Joker."

"And I'm Harley!" an upbeat girl caked in makeup popped in.

Joker pushed her out of the shot, annoyed. "Yes. Anyways, don't bother changing-"

Daire didn't care for this. She just wanted to rest after the beating she took from the dynamic duo. The bump on her head was very tender, though she hid it well.

She returned to the last channel she had watched.

"- because I'm on all of them!"

Daire glared at the clown, flipping through a few more. He wasn't wrong. He was on every channel.

"Now, we're gonna play a little game. Oh, doesn't that sound fun?"

"It sure does, puddin'," Harley answered from off screen.

"Harley, we talked about this," he growled, his eyes looking away from the camera.

"Right. Sorry, puddin'."

He was quick to return to his cheery self. "But what game are we playing? A little game I like to call, 'Can Batsy save them all?' The rules: every thirty minutes, a contestant will be exposed to my intoxicating Joker Gas." The screen flickered to different hostages in chains in various places. "At the same time, a bomb will blow up somewhere in the city." A clip of an explosion played. Then Joker returned, leaning close to the lense. "Sound like a blast, eh?" He erupted in a fit of laughter. "Now, Batsy, you have have a choice. Prevent someone from having the funniest day of their life or stop a bomb. I have seven of each."

"Uh, each of what, boss?" a deep voice behind camera asked.

Daire heard the shower shut off. Clone would be getting out soon. Good. It looked like they were going to have a busy day.

Joker sighed. Daire didn't blame him. The answer was obvious. Still, Daire listened intently to his grumbled response. "Contestants and bombs. I have seven contestants and seven bombs spread throughout the city." He quickly perked back up. "Can you and your little Boy Wonder do it, Batsy? Oh! Before I forget, the bombs or people- whichever you choose to save, or defuse- must be done so in order. If not, they will all go off at once, and no one will be safe. What order? Now where's the fun in telling you that? He he he he he!"

Daire gritted her teeth, reaching for her katana.

Once again, he leaned close to the lense. "Every thirty minutes, Batsy. Can you do it?" The camera shut off in the middle of his laughter.

The scheduled show played as it should have all along, but Daire shut it off. She got to her feet as the bathroom door opened. Clone walked out, a towel over his sopping hair and pants hanging snugly on his waist. He didn't bother wearing a shirt.

Clone instantly sensed the mood. "What's-?"

"Get dressed. We leave in three. I'll explain on the way."

Without another word, Clone did as told.

Daire put her gear on as well, contacting the other League members in Gotham. To keep a low profile, they where spread over six safe houses throughout the city. She demanded a meet up and told the reason. The teams were ready to help until one contacted Talia. Talia denied the Leaguers from helping. They were supposed to be killing Batman, not helping him. But Daire wasn't going to sit on the sidelines and watch innocent people die. It wasn't the way of the League, and it wasn't the way she did things.

Clone stepped out of his room, ready.

Without a glance, Daire walked briskly to the door. "Let's go." She pulled on her mask, her katana at her waist.

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

"You expect us to trust you?" a snide voice questioned.

Clone narrowed his eyes. "I expect you to save lives, but as of right now, you can't do that alone. You'll need our help."

"Our?"

"My _protege_ will be here any minute."

Robin went to protest, but Batman stopped him. In his deep voice, he asked, "How do we know you're on our side?"

"You don't."

A slender figure landed on the outskirts of the roof, gliding to Clone's side. The duo didn't comment, but Daire felt their glares. They recognized her.

"Did you find the first set?" Clone asked.

She shook her head and murmured, "No, but I think I found the fifth. Either way, it's not far from the end. I told the hostage to stay calm."

"Did it work?"

"No."

Batman cleared his throat, unable to hear the hushed conversation over the distance.

"She found a set- a hostage and a bomb- and believes it to be the fifth one."

"She?"

"My _assistant_ , Thorne."

"How?"

"The signals are synced. Thorne discovered the band width Joker is using can reach a set distance. Each hostage and bomb can be no more than five hundred meters apart."

Batman nodded, and Robin asked him something, in disbelief. Batman responded, his voice silent in the wind.

Batman's orders were bold, commanding. "Robin, you and Thorne find the third set."

"What about you?"

"I'll go with Vidar to the second set."

"What about the first?" Clone, going by Vidar, questioned.

"Already taken care of." No more explanation was given.

"No, thanks."

Batman hummed. "Excuse me?"

Clone repeated, "No, thanks. Thorne is staying by my side. We'll go after the third set. Remember the frequency I gave you?" He earned a nod. "Good, we'll be on that. Contact us when it's time to take care of the third set."

"No killing," Batman ordered, nodding at Daire's katana.

"We don't kill the innocent. It's why we're here."

"No killing," he repeated.

Clone eyed Daire, and she gave a slight nod. Though they chose to hide it, she was technically the boss. If she said to go along with it, he would. "Fine."

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

A dozen or so of Joker's goons guarded every bomb and every hostage. But they were easy to disarm.

Daire had grown so use to killing again, that she found avoiding it a nuisance, which frightened her. What had she become? What was she becoming? But these were horrible people. They were willing to kill others. And those who kill should be prepared to be killed.

Clone found the no kill rule more of a suggestion. He didn't think much about taking her sword and plunging it through the chest of one make up caked man.

Daire called him out, her tone scornful, but she didn't tell him to stop.

The went on, freeing the hostages and disabling the bombs. When Batman gave them the clear, they'd simultaneously take their set down, signaling their success back to the Bat.

The seventh set, however, was no where to be found. They all split up, each masked figure searching their section of the city. But no such luck.

Batman and Clone rattled theories and idea. Sometimes Robin joined. Daire kept silent, purposely only speaking to Clone. She used the second line they had up, using Clone as a messenger.

" _Found the hostage,_ " Batman reported, giving the address. " _Search for the bomb!_ "

Daire was on the edge of her district, bordering Batman's. It didn't take long to make her way there, and only took an additional five minutes to find the bomb.

Still, they were running out of time. Every time they disarmed a set, it started the next set. They had wasted fifteen minutes just finding the hostage.

Daire didn't bother to glance at her watch. She clicked her com twice, signaling she found the bomb.

At the same time, Robin swung in. He was reporting to Batman, but wasn't close enough for her to hear him. When he landed, he passed her an unimpressed glance

" _Good. Report back when you're ready,_ " Batman ordered.

Without a word, Daire popped the panel of the bomb off, offering Robin the chance to disarm it. He gave a stubborn nod and went to work. The bombs had been wired the same, so he didn't have to waste time figuring out which wire to cut.

Blade in hand, leaning against the wire, he said, " _Ready_."

" _Good. Three. Two. One!_ "

A quick flick of the wrist and the bomb was deactivated, Robin stood up straight, brushing imaginary dust off his gloves.

He passed Daire a stern look. "Tt."

Suddenly, a slow clapping echoed through the warehouse.


	9. Chapter 7: The Trap

**~ The Trap ~**

Suddenly, a slow clapping echoed through the warehouse.

Daire and Robin spun on their heels to face the clapper. The once dark screen switched on, lighting the dim room.

The young bodies tensed, surprised. Neither were used to being snuck up on, and both silently scolded themselves for not paying attention to their surroundings. They had been taught better than that.

Daire narrowed her masked eyes. How shamed would her grandfather be, if life still be upon him? How disappointed would her mother be? How pitiful would she look in her brother's eyes, if life still graced him?

Robin balled his hands into tight fists. Even his father, as kind and forgiving he tended to be, would be disappointed. And his sister, wherever she was, what would she say? During training, she'd giggle and console him: it's okay to make mistakes. But this was a mission: pay attention, stay alert, never let your guard down. He didn't dare dwell on the punishment his mother and grandfather would have given him, should they have seen his foolish mistake.

"Hello, kiddies!" the mad man greeted. He smiled brightly for the camera, looking straight at them. Or, more accurately, straight into the camera.

A few dozen of his men appeared, each easily two to three times bigger than one of the small bodies. In sync, the young duo readied for the fight that was sure to come. Both of the skilled warriors were sure they'd win; the grown men before them were sure they'd win, but didn't make a move. They hadn't received the order yet, and you'd have to be a fool with a death wish to upset Joker.

But Joker tisked from the screen, waving his finger. "Now, now, we wouldn't want the game to end early, would we?" He paused, as if expecting a reaction from the two. Maybe he hoped for some form of agreement, though he knew they wouldn't deliver. "Did Batsy take on another sidekick?" Hopefully this one would be more fun than the current Robin. The current Robin was a lot like his mentor: boring and rigid. He didn't smile like the past Robins, didn't shout with joy swinging between buildings, or beam after winning a fight. Boring!

Neither child answered, something that took Joker longer than necessary to realize. Hmm, maybe this was a bad time to let his thoughts run wild. Oh well! It wasn't like he was sane. Besides, he always did have the best conversations with himself, always did come up with the best, most disturbing, chaotic plans by himself.

And there he was, his thoughts running wild again.

"Nothing? No _"where's Batsy?"_ No _"oh, Joker, what are you going to do to us?"_ " Despite raising the pitch of his voice to sound more feminine, the young duo didn't react. This was another thing about the new Robin he despised: he was no fun. He couldn't take a joke to save his life. At least Batman would sometimes come up with a witty- dare he say funny- response. But this Robin? Nothing. He sighed, a little irritated. Looks like this new sidekick was as boring as Robin. "Another grumpy pants, eh? Whatever. I've got Batsy and some other hero- guy locked up somewhere." Both of the children made a mental remark on the new guy's status- not good/ a criminal- but let Joker continue. "I'll give you- let say- two hours before I dose them in Joker Gas! And this is a new formula-" he leaned forward as if to tell a secret, though there was too much distance to be able to whisper, "-so no antidote, bird brat and whatever you are." He paused. "Eh, so what is your name?"

He was answered with silence.

He appeared disgruntled with the- or rather lack of a- response, but shrugged nonchalantly. He could always ask Batman.

He turned, looking off camera. "Hey, Batsy! Who's the new kid?" When there was no answer, Joker lifted a remote and pressed the big red button. Electricity could be heard, along with a blend of two masculine grunts of pain. The person handling the camera turned it, showing both men chained up. Ankles and wrists trapped in metal cuffs, metal domes surrounding their hands and feet. Batman's tricked gloves wouldn't be able to save him this time.

"Thorne!" Robin shouted, and the zapping stopped. Both men panted, and the camera turned back to Joker.

"Thorne? Hmm, kind of dull don't ya think? Oh well. Well, bird boy and rose girl- you are a girl, right?" He received two nods. "Good- well, as I said before, you have two hours to find Batsy and random hero- guy before I make them just like me!" He spiraled off into a fit of laughter, holding his stomach after running out of air. Still, he kept laughing. It was well over a minute before he paused, glaring at the people behind the camera. "Laugh."

And obviously forced laughter erupted. Even the men with Robin and Daire obeyed, sending Joker into another laughing spell.

"Oh," he added, as if he had forgotten, "and you have one hour to find the Nightwing before he goes drop!" The screen split, showing Harley and Nightwing, who was hanging by his ankles above a cauldron of bubbling green acid.

Daire frowned, what kind of acid was that? Seriously, it seemed only Joker used such a vibrant colored acid. Man, Batman had the weirdest villains. For a reason other than Batman's planned assassination, Daire was glad she wasn't part of the infamous dynamic duo.

"Nightwing!" Batman called. Robin perked at the sound of his mentor.

"Yes, that's what you get for cheating, Batman!" He turned, as if he could actually see Harley across the screens. "How ya doin' there, Harls?" Maybe he had a screen with the same image of Harley wherever he was.

"Doin' good, Mistah J!" she reported. "Got him all tied up and ready!"

"Good, very good." Harley and Nightwing's camera shut off, and Joker filled the screen again. "So, kid duo, who are you going to save? Batman or Nightwing?"

"Robin! Save Nightwing!" Batman ordered.

Joker turned to someone. "Shut him up, will ya?" And some shuffling was heard behind the camera. Without someone keeping it steady, the camera tilted, showing them the bland cement floor.

Joker stepped forward, arms reaching out to angle it back at him. "Nightwing is far enough away from us. Over an hour's drive, even by Batman's standards," he ended up grumbling, giving a nasty eye to the Bat off screen. "You can either save Batman (and random hero-guy) or Nightwing. Who's it gonna be, kiddies?" Mid laugh, the camera cut off, leaving the screen black.

It flickered back on- "Oh, men, get them-" and back off again.

Daire sighed; Robin tutted. They simultaneously dashed forward, gifting their enemies with a series of skilled punch and kicks. Despite being outsized and outnumbered, the two petite beings had fought worse, more trained opponents. They quickly neutralized the threat.

They stood a foot apart, looking around in satisfaction.

A man between them groaned, pushing himself up. His movements were groggy, but neither hesitated to kick the side of the head closest to him. The man fell back down, unconscious once again.

"Not bad," they seemed to silently compliment the other. But for whatever reason, the two didn't feel the need to speak. It was as if they were telepathically linked on some level. They didn't need words to communicate.

Without words, Robin motioned for Daire to follow him. They made their way to the roof, hopping across rooftops until Robin slid down a fire escape. Daire followed, cautiously. They walked up to the warehouse door, Daire wondering what they were doing here. Everything in the area seemed run down, rusted, and there was a foul smell a few buildings over.

"What are we doing here?" she asked, disguising her voice some.

"Tt," Robin tutted, punching the key to open the locked metal door. The warehouse looked much nicer on the inside. Rows of bright florescent lights flickered on, showing the place for what is was: a safe house. The question answered, the youngsters remained silent, not needing to speak. They simply made eyes contact and nodded. They didn't need words. Simultaneously, they loaded themselves with weapons.

Daire made her way to the gun rack, which seemed useless to have since Batman refused to use such a tool. She reached for a small gun, ready to use it to save Clone. He was her brother, even though he was a clone. Daire wasn't about to lose another brother. Suddenly, a bat-a-rang whisped by her hand, making her jerk back. Batman was strictly against killing, it was only logical he fed the same morals to his protege. Still, Daire found it slightly annoying. She turned to glare at Robin who tossed her a utility belt. It was small, needed to be adjust some, and was definitely one of Robin's, but it would do.

And this was not her, she knew. She used to be like Batman. She disliked killing, and would go out of her way to avoid if she could. And though she eventually gave in, she always protested murder enough to get punishment after punishment.

And here she was.

Wanting to kill.

 _She_ was the one being stopped.

She felt like a stranger in her own skin. She was being the same monster she had run from in the first place.

Sure, she was being the perfect daughter, perfect grandchild, even the perfect big sister- but at what cost? Was revenge really worth her soul? Her baby brother was dead- there's nothing she could do to fix that. His body was mutilated like their grandfather's, destroyed past even the pit's ability to revive. But she was alive. She was still here. While having different views of their upbringing, Damian adored Daire, flaws and all. Would he want this? Would he want Daire to follow in their mother's and grandfather's footsteps? Would he want her to seek revenge? To spill blood on his behalf?

Daire shook her head, sneaking a gun when Robin wasn't looking. How many times had she fought this internal battle? How many times would her thoughts race before calming? She knew the answer to all of her questions. It was silly to doubt herself, her mother, and especially her brother.

What was she thinking? Of course Damian would want this. As much as he adored Daire, he idolized their grandfather and mother. He spent every free second striving to please them, to be the king he was bred to be. Daire didn't think he necessary enjoyed killing (maybe the praise he got from it, but not the action itself), but didn't despise it the way she did. The boy she loved had absolutely no quarrels with murder. He wasn't one to hesitate, unlike herself, and would kill without a second thought.

Yes. Damian would want this. He would want her to avenge him, to take his place, to carry on his legacy. And she would honor him. She would honor the one person who loved her unconditionally.

Even after death, Daire would do anything for Damian.

They finished collecting everything they deemed necessary, Robin lead them to the vehicles.

With a smirk, Robin took the keys to the Batmobile and hopped in. Daire had a feeling Batman wouldn't be pleased with this, but that would teach him for being careless. Maybe next time he wouldn't let himself get captured. Besides, this was Robin's terf. She wasn't going to tell him how to deal with Joker. Batman and Robin knew each other, their villains, and their city. Daire had enough trust in Robin to do everything in his power to save Batman, Nightwing and Clone along with.

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

An obvious first, they made their way to the chemical warehouse where Robin thought Nightwing was being kept. They settled into a comfortable silence, Robin behind the wheel.

Robin seemed comfortable enough driving, and he was decent at it. From the pictures of wrecks Daire had seen, in her opinion, he was better than Batman.

The people of Gotham automatically made way for the speeding Batmobile, parting as if it were an emergency vehicle. It loud engine could be heard down the block, and people just knew when to stop (even at a green light) to let Robin speed past.

It was uncanny. Daire had never seen anything like it. The city was so in sync. It kind of unnerved her. But, with the way traffic parted for them, they were making great time. Daire couldn't deny that.


	10. Chapter 8: The Rescue

**~ The Rescue ~**

"This is your fault," he accused, voice muffled by the face mask.

"Is not!" Daire denied, kicking him in the leg. "It's yours."

The kick was returned. "No, it's not!"

"Is too!"

"Is not!"

"Is too!"

"Is not!"

"Is-!"

"Would you two lovebirds shut up?" an annoyed Nightwing complained.

"We're not lovebirds!" the young duo shouted simultaneously, ceasing their exchange of petty kicks. They glared at each other, daring the other to say something else.

"Look, we need to find a way out of this," Nightwing reasoned. "Any ideas?"

Robin was the first to relent. He ended the staring contest to squirm his hand around his utility belt, bumping into Daire.

"Stay on your side!"

"I am!"

"No, you're not! You came on my side!"

"No, I didn't."

"Yes, you did!"

"No, I didn't."

"Did too!"

"Did not!"

"Did too!"

"Did not!"

Seeing the wooden crate shake uneasily beside him, Nightwing sighed. If he didn't know any better, he'd swear these two were siblings. Grunts, shouts, and thus could be heard, all coming from the swinging box.

And of all the times he wished Robin would act more his age, why did his childish side come out now? Now of all bloody times?

"Guys," he tried. The fighting and arguing continued. "Guys!" And they still did not stop. "GUYS!" Finally. "You can settle your lovers quarrel later. Right now-"

"We're not lovers!"

"-we need to focus on getting out of this trap before we become human smoothies." He really didn't have a better phrase for what the acid would do to them. They really needed to get out of here. . . Batman could handle himself, but he did sometimes need help. And if he wasn't here yet, he's probably still trapped and they are his only hope.

Yeah, with the two bickering children, he had a bad feeling about this. Why hadn't he paid more attention in the fight with Harley? If had noticed the goons sneaking up behind him, he wouldn't be in this mess. He thought it was just Harley, so he didn't focus on his surroundings as much as he should have.

"Yeah, that doesn't sound gusting."

"What?" Robin's muffled voice questioned.

"Gusting," the muffled, feminine voice repeated. "The opposite of disgusting. As in, good. Meaning: we wouldn't taste good, ばか (baka) (Idiot)!"

Robin scoffed, trying to play cool at the reminder of someone he missed dearly. Nightwing raised an eyebrow, remembering his days of butchering the English language. Not afraid of Robin, tried to save him, and points out flaws in English: if she were fifteen or so years older, she'd be just his type.

"Now that we've decided we wouldn't be a delicious treat," Nightwing joked, "how about some ideas on getting us out of here?"

"You fucking idiot! Don't do that!" he heard the girl shout. What was an obvious slap echoed out of the box, and Robin's distinctive growl rumbled.

"It'll get us out of here."

"It'll get us dead!"

"What's going on?" Nightwing questioned, but he was ignored.

"You're going to blow us up," the girl complained. Well, there was his answer.

"I know what I'm doing." He wasn't serious, right?

"Yeah, I know what you're doing, too: blowing us up!"

"Shut up."

"Make me."

"Tt, keep talking and I will."

"Yeah, right. I'd like to see you try."

"I wouldn't try; I would succeed."

"Says you."

The chains holding them above the acid dropped a foot lower, jerking all of them around.

Another kick.

"Ouch! That wasn't me, dipshit!" The kick was returned.

"It was an accident," Robin defended.

"Yeah, a happy one, I bet."

Nightwing could hear the smirk through the box and gas mask. "You wouldn't be wrong." He sighed at the sound of another kick. "Tt."

"Come on, guys," Nightwing complained.

"I have an idea."

"Is it a good one?" Robin asked, doubtful.

"I have an idea. And yes, I'm sure that just fills you with the utmost confidence in me." Honestly, her sarcasm was a welcome to Robin's barren humor. But it wasn't helping them get out of this mess.

Nightwing let out a little yell as they lowered closer to the acid. "Um, I'm all ears." Being upside down, it wasn't difficult to crane his head to stare dead ahead at the bubbling acid. He knew the two youngsters couldn't see (they had been dumb enough to get trapped in their little wooden box and had no way of knowing how close they were to death).

"Move over."

"Tt, where?"

Shuffling could be heard, accompanied with a few insults and more kicks.

"When did you free your hands?" Robin exclaimed.

There was a pause before the answer came. "Within ten minutes of getting trapped in this thing."

"And you didn't-?"

"I slapped you six minutes ago. Did it not occur to you then that my hands were free?"

A moment of silence.

"Tt, shut up."

Oh, Red Hood was going to love this. Nightwing couldn't help his growing smirk. For the "perfect" blood son, the kid finally made a mistake.

The chains lowered again, cutting off anymore distractions.

It didn't take long for Robin and the girl to get out of the box. Together, they had kicked a side out. The side dropped into the acid, splashing some it up towards Nightwing. He cringed, trying to get away. Luckily, none hit him.

"Guys, can we be a little more careful?"

"Tt, you're one to talk, Grayson."

And if looks could kill, Robin would be in the bubbling acid, never to be seen again.

But if the girl had caught on to the slip, she didn't comment or act upon it. But through their gas masks, it was hard to tell.

They climbed on the box reaching over for Nightwing. They unlocked his chains and used grappling hooks to get on the ground, to safety.

It had taken longer than Nightwing would have liked to get free, but they finally did.

They made their way outside, and Nightwing went over a quick plan on what to do next. Get to their transportation, go to Batman, save him, capture Joker.

Not very elaborate or original, but it would have to do.

"So, where did you park."

"The alley beside you."

"Which direction?" Nightwing asked, mostly to himself as his brain searched for the answer.

"North," they said in unison but pointed in slightly different directions. Both were wrong. Not completely, but still wrong. "That way is north. No, this way!" They continued bickering, raising their voices to be heard over the other.

"Yelling doesn't make either of you right," Nightwing pointed out.

"It makes me not have to hear him be wrong," the girl immediately retorted, and Nightwing could stop the snicker. These two. . . Under different circumstances, he would be enjoying this, but now was not the time and this was not the place and they were in a rush and couldn't they get along to two freaking seconds?

"I'm not wrong. You're wrong."

"You're both wrong," Nightwing cut in before another fight could start. Robin had pointed northwest while the girl pointed northeast. Nightwing walked in between the two, showing them their mistake.

"Mine was closer," Robin muttered under his breath, just loud enough for Nightwing and Thorne to hear.

Nightwing sighed. This was going to be a long hour. Well, it was going feel like an incredibly long hour.

"No, mine was."

"No, it wasn't."

"Yes, it was."

"No, it-"

"You were both wrong; I was right. Suck it up; shut up!" Nightwing finally bellowed. His usual go-lucky manner was a complete contrast to this, and the two bickering brats quickly obeyed.

He lead the way to where they knew Batman and Thorne's mentor was at. He heard the occasional shuffle, whispered insult, and pointed cough, but the two were otherwise quiet. He couldn't be more thankful. At least for these few minutes, he could get some quiet. Not peace or silence, but quiet.

He found his cycle and hopped on. Robin and Thorne took off to the next alley, saying they were parked there. And Nightwing groaned when he say which vehicle they drove.

"Batman's going to kill me."

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

Despite his protests, Nightwing drove his cycle to Batman's coordinates, leaving Robin and Daire in the Batmobile.

Daire was smiling smugly from the driver's seat. When it came out that she was older and had been driving longer than Robin, Nightwing ordered Robin to stand down and let her take the wheel.

"I could've drove," he complained.

"After that stunt you pulled earlier? You're lucky you're even in this car."

Robin rolled his eyes but didn't ask for clarification. "You're overreacting."

Daire glanced at the passenger side mirror. Or- more appropriately- where it should be. In his rush to get to Nightwing, Robin had driven them down an alley, through a fence, through a randomly placed stack of cardboard boxes, and up a ramp, over a pickup truck, and over the street. The alley on the other side of the street was large enough to fit the car, but Robin had been off a bit. The passenger side of the car had scraped against the wall. "Oops," was all he had said.

"I'm pretty sure I'm not."

The drive didn't take long.

"It would've been quicker if I drove," Robin pointed out when they jumped out.

"A quicker trip to heaven, yeah."

In a hushed but clearly audible voice, Nightwing shushed them. "Stop fighting. We have to save Batman. And your mentor."

"Vidar," Robin supplied.

"Okay, Vidar. We have to work together and be quiet." For emphasis, he put his finger to his lips. He received silent nods. "Good. Now take of the gas masks and follow me."

Robin and Thorne blinked, pulling off their masks as if they had forgotten they were there. Thorne handed hers to Robin, who tucked them into his utility belt. They refused to even glance at each other. But they were silent.

They made their way inside, sneaking around Joker and his men.

Robin had wanted to dive right in but was stopped. Nightwing insisted on finding Batman and Vidar before revealing themselves. He preferred to slip in, free them, and slip out without being noticed.

But when do things go according to plan? Especially with the Batclan?

It wasn't long before they were discovered and fighting.

"Robin, free Batman and Vidar! We've got this!" Nightwing ordered at the start of the fight.

Robin was not pleased at missing a fight but went along. A few guys tried to stop them, but they were weak and untrained. They were easy to take down. Sometimes Robin wished for a more challenging fight. He missed sparing with someone equal or close to his skill set.

He eventually reached the control panel that controlled Batman's and Vidar's trap. He pushed a few buttons, getting a feel for the machine. When he found out a code was needed to unlock them, he settled for smashing it. He opened the side panel, slipped in a small bomb, and back off.

The control panel blew up, but the chains didn't unlock.

Well, that didn't work.

"Robin!" Batman shouted.

It was enough time to alert him. He dodged the coward attacking from behind, quickly darting forward to gift him a series of powerful punches. With every battle cry he let out, his opponent let out grunts and gasps of pain as he stumbled back.

"Tt, too easy," he said to himself. He made his way to the actual trap, pulling out the lock picking tools Batman made him carry. It was a skill his mother had taught him when he was three, so it didn't take long.

"Good job," Batman complimented, something he was still getting used to. "Free Vidar." Batman ran off to join the fight, leaving Robin.

He huffed in annoyance but complied. The last thing he wanted was to get grounded again. Within thirty seconds, Vidar was also free. Finally, Robin could join the fight.

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

The fight hadn't lasted long. With the police on their way and Joker and his crew tied up, they made their way to a roof across the street.

The remained silent until the flashing light appeared.

"Hey, thanks for the help," Nightwing beamed. He was just a bag of sunshine. Honestly, it reminded Daire of herself before he mother found her. She saw the bright side of everything and refused to let anything get her down.

Until her baby brother was slain.

At the thought, she turned to glare at Batman, nodded once, and spun on her heels, walking off without a word.

"Next time, Batman, she will kill you," Clone promised, following her at a slower pace.

It was then Nightwing noticed, he hadn't heard the girl speak since she took off her mask.


	11. Chapter 9: The Time

**~ The Time ~**

"What was that whole killing thing about?" Nightwing questioned back at the cave.

"The kid is an assassin. Her mission is to kill me," Batman answered. He was going over what little he had on them, adding new information gained from the night's events.

"Do you know who hired them?"

"No."

"Where they're from?"

"No."

"Where they're staying?"

"No."

"You mean you haven't followed them?"

"I have. Every time I try, they lose me."

"You mean you lose them," Nightwing corrected, a smug grin plastered across his face. Whoever this girl was, he was liking her more and more.

"They are very skilled, especially the kid."

And it hit him. A kid. The girl was just a kid. Robin's age. She was what Robin once was, who he could still be if he hadn't been handed to Batman.

"What are we going to do to help her?"

"Help her? She's a killer, Nightwing."

"Technically, so is your kid."

"He doesn't kill."

"Anymore," scoffed Nightwing.

"He doesn't kill." Batman really didn't want to have this conversation. Couldn't Nightwing just go away? He could go bother Robin for all he cared.

"He lived with Talia and Ra's for ten years. You really think he's never killed before?"

"Go away, Dick."

Though he couldn't see it, he knew his past ward was rolling his eyes.

"So, I'll repeat, what are we going to do to help her?"

"She's a criminal, Nightwing."

"She doesn't know any better! That's probably all she's ever known or she's being forced to! More than likely, both! And don't try telling me she's a criminal. Bruce Wayne helps rehabilitate criminals all the time!"

"I don't think this is about the way she was raised or this being a hit. I think it's something else." Nightwing sighed when there was no elaboration and prodded for more. Luckily, Batman was in a talking mood. "She only targets me. She uses nonlethal moves with Robin; she holds back. If it was a hit, Robin would be a target, too."

"Unless they wanted him alive," Nightwing pointed out. He shrugged when Batman stared at him. "Robin has been a target before. Many people want the Boy Wonder."

Batman didn't want to admit it, but Nightwing had a point.

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

"Ugh!" Daire sighed, pacing in their safe house. "That Robin kid is so annoying!"

Clone glanced up from cleaning his knifes but didn't say anything.

"I mean, he's such a narcissistic brat! He thinks he knows everything, and does his own thing, regardless of the consequences!"

"Um," Clone frowned. While Daire wasn't a brat, nor entirely narcissistic, she had a decent ego. The mission they had finished was a direct violation of what they had been told to do, and they were both surely to be punished for the insubordination.

Daire continued, "And he has a smart little mouth that makes people want to punch it!" Daire was known for her sharp tongue at times. Clone had seen Daire's snide comments get her into messes and fights (she always won, but that's beside the point). "He thinks just because he's Batman's sidekick, it automatically puts him above everyone else!"

At this point, Clone wasn't sure if Daire was talking about Robin, herself, or both.

While it was uncommon, Clone could name multiple occasions where Daire used her family name to get what she wanted. The commands weren't of any extreme, but she had been known to point out her "birth rights" put her above others.

It wasn't something she hadn't started doing until she started killing. Clone noticed that much. But in most cases Talia encouraged her to take control of others (with the exclusion of herself) and to repeatedly prove her rank and superior skills, so the habit wasn't going away.

Her watched beeped, cutting off her rant. She sighed, going to the safe house laptop and starting up the video chat features.

"Mother," she greeted, as formal as ever.

"Daire, I heard about your little side project." Daire remained silent, waiting for her punishment. "But I'll deal with that when you return. Right now, I need you and the clone to-"

"Heretic."

"What?"

"His name is Heretic," Daire repeated, the first time she used his newly chosen name.

Talia glared. "Whatever. I need you to check on one of the set of assassins. They have failed to check in. I'm sending you the coordinates now." She glanced down, pushing something Daire couldn't see.

It took a few moments, but the message finally arrived. It was just a few cities over. Daire recognized the place. It was a mission she helped planned.

"I want you to kill them."

Daire jerked her head up, shocked. "What?"

"Kill them," her mother repeated, no empathy in her tone.

"But they're our men."

"They've either failed or are not following orders. There's no place for failures or insubordination in the League. Kill them. Every last one of them."

"But we planned to get the Batman tonight," Clone- Heretic informed.

"I can handle him myself. You can go," Daire decided.

Talia didn't seem to care. "Just get the job done. I don't care who does it." Without a farewell, she ended the call.

Heretic went straight to packing. Talia was already upset with them. Making her wait- even just a few hours- to start the newly assigned mission would not help their case.

Daire went over plans for a robbery they had come across. She knew the perfect place to wait for the bat and his little bird. When the robbers were caught and the vigilantes guard was down, she'd strike.

oOoOoOoOoOo

The amateur thieves were late.

They were also inebriated.

Daire let out a frustrated sigh. They weren't even trying at this point. Who the hell pulls a heist while drunk? What could they possibly be thinking?

It was clear the Batman wouldn't need to be here. The police could take care of these imbeciles on their own. Still, she waited. Maybe he'd come.

And Robin did. His short silhouette bounced along the rooftops. He was quick and graceful, pausing and lifting his hand to his ear before going in.

A com. He must have a com on him.

And while Batman hadn't yet come, she knew a way to change that.

Robin could easily handle the situation on his own. Going in would only annoy and antagonize him.

So, naturally, that's exactly what Daire did.

"Tt, you're late." Robin hadn't even looked in her direction, taking one of the intoxicated men down with ease.

She didn't respond. She had learned last time- near the end- that not responding quickly aggravated him. She would need his full attention.

"The silent treatment?" he guessed, still receiving no response. He turned in a mid-air kick, finally glancing at her.

She suddenly leapt over the boy, using his shoulder as leverage. He body swerved at the momentum, and her leg made contact with another robber's face.

Robin, too stubborn and prideful to say his thanks, grunted it.

In an bored silence, they tied the attempted criminals up and waited for the police. Robin always found this part boring, but maybe this wouldn't be so bad. While the girl irritated him like his so-called brothers, there was something about her that intrigued him. Something he couldn't name but knew was familiar.

The flashing lights took his attention off the roof they had been waiting on. The police arrived quickly, to his satisfaction. When the inebriated men were dragged into the cop cars, Robin finally turned.

"You aren't-" he paused his- forced- compliment, seeing he was alone. Alert, his eyes scanned his surroundings, his peripheral vision catching a quick jerk in the shadows of the building next to the store he was on.

He could see Daire jumping onto the next roof, as she meant. She could hear Robin's quiet put quick footsteps follow her, landing rather heavily on the sturdy roof.

She lead him further away, giving him time to contact Batman. She made sure to stay within eye sight, staying just close enough to keep his interest while being far enough away to have the advantage.

She flipped off the roof, landing loudly on the rattling fire escape halfway down before jumping the rest of the way. The girl was being careless in her escape, leaving an easy trail for Robin to follow.

He jumped the entire way, going into a roll at the end of the three story drop.

"Batman," she heard Robin report. "Thorne has returned."  
He easily did a somersault over the six foot fence Daire flipped over.

"No, those idiots weren't even a warm up." A pause. "Grandfather made sure I fought tougher, more skilled warriors when I was a toddler."

He lost sight of Thorne looking up to see her at the top of a different fire escape. How had she climbed it so fast?

Didn't matter. He grabbed a grappling hook from his utility belt, quickly catching up.

"I'm following her now. Yes. No. No, I can-. Fine."

She lead him to an abandoned warehouse that turned out not to be as abandoned as the city believed. Crates lined the walls and created mini walls around the place. There was a big open area which could be seen from the small walkway along the walls of the second floor.

Robin took action, roundhouse kicking her through a taped window. The window shattered, and Daire fell though. None of the shards pierced her skin, and she brushed the remaining shards off.

Their fight wasn't quite, but there wasn't anyone around for their racket to bother. The children fought in the narrow space, using the rail and wall to bounce around in feeble attempts to gain the upper hand.

Another of Robin's attacks hit its mark, knocking Daire down. He paused, standing smugly above her. She didn't hesitate to swing her leg, his legs forced out from under him. As he hit the ground, she grabbed his cape, forcing him back up and flipping him over the railing, onto the concrete first floor below.

She jumped over the railing, landing beside him. She leaned forward, ready to end the fight.

Then Batman showed up. He stopped her from knocking Robin unconscious, tackling her away. They rolled, giving her the chance to escape, a chance she took advantage of.

She knew the match was no longer in her favor.

She was losing. Outnumbered, overpowered, and out maneuvered. Robin was a ball of energy, which was no surprise for his age. And he did a good job taking over the fight.

He stayed close, refusing to let Batman get a clear shot. While that worked in her favor, he was also close enough to strike, fast enough to do so repeatedly, and strong enough to do some damage.

The guard on her forearms softened most of his blows, but the force behind his punches were starting to hurt.

She blocked his next punch to the side, flipping him towards Batman, who had attempted to sneak up behind her. The boy only pushed the Dark Knight a couple steps back, but he reached out to soften the fall for his little bird.

Daire turned around, trying to get away. The night was lost. She'd try again.

But Batman stopped her.

Batman knew how to be on overbearing opponent. He was definitely a worthy one. Daire had trouble keeping up with him and took many blows.

Daire had managed to get the grappling hook wrapped around Batman's ankles, shooting the end to the ceiling. Batman was pulled away and left to- literally- hang around.

But Daire knew that wouldn't keep him for long. Less than a minute.

Her attention now on Robin, she dove forward, going into a roll when he dodged aside. She stretched out her leg, knocking his out from under him. He fell with a grunt, landing heavily on his forearms.

Daire was first to rise to her feet, pointing her katana at Robin's neck. He glared at her, knowing when not to fight back.

"Surren-" Daire started, but was cut off when a bat-a-rang batted her hand. She let out an embarrassing yelp from the surprise, dropping her katana.

Robin hopped to his feet, ready. She felt pressure around her wrist and neck. His hand shifted as her feet left the floor, moving to her hip. A steadfast hand forced her up, rolling over Robin's shoulder. She landed flat on the ground, frozen in shock.

Not of the impact.

But of the move.

Daire recognized it. It was a lover her grandfather taught her and her brother. The next set of moves would end her life, as the young assassins were taught. It was a move not even her mother knew.

And the only other person (beside her grandfather and herself) who knew it was her beloved brother.

But Robin just started it.

Robin, who had the same skin tone and midnight hair as her brother.

Before she could say anything, Robin was quickly pinning her to the cold concrete floor. Firmly against her neck- but not hard enough to cut skin- was a bat-a-rang.

Could it be?

Could it really be?


	12. Chapter 10: The Kill

**~ The Kill ~**

Robin had pinned her down, a bat-a-rang to her throat. She gritted her teeth, feeling the blade dig into her soft flesh. A low hiss escaped her lips.

"Justice not vengeance. Justice not vengeance," a familiar voice chanted. The whites of his mask gone since his eyes were closed. "Justice not vengeance." Could it be? Daire dared to wondered. Was it him? But that was not something her brother would say. Her determined little brother wouldn't hesitate to kill. Not like her. "Justice not vengeance."

He backed off, the bat-a-rang still in his hand. Batman stood behind him.

"Good job, Robin."

"Dami?" the assassin whispered, catching the duo's attention. "Is it really you?"

Robin froze, recognizing the gentleness of the voice. His mind raced, taking longer than he would have like to place the voice. It had been far too long since he'd seen her, heard her, felt her love. She was always so kind to him, so gentle. And what had he done? Betrayed her. Would she be happy to see him? Angry? Sad? Disappointed? Or maybe proud of the change in him. He had worked so hard to be like his Father for her.

"Dami? Please, is it really you." Without thinking, the girl tore her mask off, revealing deep green eyes.

"Dai? Sister?" Robin murmured.

After a moment of silence, the two crashed into each other, holding onto their sibling for dear life.

"It's really you!" the assassin wept, squeezing the boy to her.

"I thought- I thought-" the boy struggled for words.

"How are you alive?" his sister questioned, scanning him for any injuries. She took off his mask, staring into his eyes.

This confused the boy. "Alive? Of course I'm alive."

"Mother told me the Batman killed you. She told me you were dead."

He blinked. "Sister, Father didn't kill me. Father would never-"

"But Mother told me he helped Deathstroke kill Grandfather. When you went after them to honor him, Batman killed you."

"I don't kill," the bat himself stated.

The girl ignored him, her hand cupping her brother's check. Having missed the warmth, the boy leaned into the loving touch.

"I missed you," he whispered, eyes closed.

"I've missed you, too, Dami." Once again, they hugged, clinging to the other.

"I thought you left," he murmured in her shoulder.

"I did, but Mother came to me. She said you asked her to find me, to give me a second chance. She said you wanted me to take your place as heir. She said to avenge you, I would have to kill the Batman."

The boy shook his head, pulling back. "Father didn't kill me. He's never hurt me. The ways of the League are wrong; Mother is wrong. You were right, Dai. You were right."

Batman stood awkwardly to the side. He had never seen his son so emotional, so attached. He wondered who the girl was. She wasn't his, was she? She was slightly taller than Robin, but they were still children. Talia never mentioned Damian having a sister, let alone a twin. Were they twins? They looked alike, but they were siblings, so that didn't say much.

Looking closer, he doubt she was his. Though she looked a lot like Damian, she had none of his features. Similar nose and cheekbones, sure, but not exact. They weren't Talia's either. She obviously inherited her mother's hair and had the same eyes as Damian.

Stepping back, the two siblings clasped hands, the boy turning to face his father.

"Father," the boy started, back to his formal manner, "this is my sister, Daire. Dai, this is my father."

She nodded, "I know all about the infamous Batman."

Just to make sure. . .

"Who is your father?" he asked.

Both children's eyes hardened. They stiffened, and Batman knew the story behind that was a bad one.

"He's dead. I killed him," his son answered.

Though he knew the boy had killed before, Batman still felt his muscles lock.

"Why?"

"Because I wouldn't. I was weak," the girl answered, her voice a soft whisper.

Damian's head snapped to his sister, instinctively consoling her. "You are not weak, Dai. Vengeance is weak. It is easy, but that doesn't make it right." Though an inch or so shorter, he enveloped her into a hug.

Batman felt a wave of pride flood at his son's words. He was doing good, teaching him well. And it was good to know the boy kept his father's words to heart.

"I should have killed him, though. Especially after what he did."

Batman frowned. What did her father do?

"No, you are not a killer," Robin soothed, something Batman thought was impossible for the egotistical boy. "Not letting revenge drive you, that's strong not weak."

"Revenge," the girl repeated, blinking herself to the present. Her eyes darted to Batman, who waited for an attack. She turned away. "We need to go."

"What?" Robin struggled against her hold, unwilling to leave.

"Hurry, Dami. I'm not alone. Soon the League will know I failed, that I didn't kill the Batman."

Frowning, he yanked his arm away. "I'm not going back."

"I didn't say we were going back. Mother has changed. She thinks only of power. Surely, she knew you were alive and Robin."

He nodded, "She left me with Father."

"So going back will get us both killed. Or worse. No, we're running." She took his arm again, pulling him to the exit.

"Running? From the League of Assassins?"

"It'll be hard, but I know we can do it. We can do anything, Dami, as long as we're together. Remember?"

His eyes glazed over, his mind going back in time. "But Father-" He cut himself off, glancing at him.

"You know what fathers do."

"But he doesn't do that. He would never."

"Mine did it."

"And he was killed for his wrongdoings."

"Come on, Dami," she pleaded, seeing as he was resisting again. "Please, I can't live without you. Not again. Not anymore. We can do it. Together. But we have to hurry."

"Dai, Father can protect us. He's beat Grandfather; he can beat Mother. And he won't ever do that to you."

"Do what? What did your father do to you, Dai?" the man asked, setting his hand on his son's shoulder. He didn't miss the way the girl cringed away at his presence, dropping Robin's hand.

"Don't call her that!" Robin scolded. "Her name is Daire. Only I can call her Dai!"

He nodded. "Daire. What did your father do to you?"

She wouldn't even meet his masked gaze. She slipped her mask back on. The thin fabric gave her confidence, her back straightening. She pushed her shoulders back but kept her gaze dead ahead.

Knowing he wasn't going to get an answer, he let it drop. "Come with us. I won't let Talia touch you or Robin."

"Please, Dai," Robin begged, putting his mask back on, too.

From her silence, Batman was sure she was going to decline the offer. His mind listed everything he could do. He didn't want to resort to kidnapping, but neither did he want a child to be forced to kill. His own son had been so close to becoming Ra's Al Gaul.

Then she whispered, "Will you be there?"

Robin stepped forward, gently taking her hands. "I'll always be with you. I won't leave you again."

There was also the soft side of his son, the one he knew only she could bring out. His love for animals was promising, but this? This was gold. A genuine human connection. Someone who grew up with him, learned with him, laughed with him.

She giggled. "I think I was the one who left, Dami."

Laughing. Was it horrible that he couldn't picture his own son laughing? His son was always so formal, strict, and blunt. He couldn't imagine his child smiling, playing, or even bonding with another. He couldn't imagine his child being normal.

Robin shook his head. "I left you. I didn't go with you."

"Grandfather would never have allowed it. You know that."

Robin didn't respond to that. Instead, he led her towards the Batmobile. "Father will protect us. I will protect you. You don't have to worry. Father can even get adoption papers for you like he did for me. Though I don't know why he needed them; I am his blood son." Batman ignored that jab, following the kids.

"Sweet ride! Are you driving, Dami?"

Robin opened his mouth to speak, but he was cut off.

"No."

"He knows how."

Yup. They are definitely related.

"No."

"He never lets anyone drive," Robin said. "And call me Robin."

She frowned but nodded. The two skinny children squeezed into the passenger seat easily. Batman half hoped he'd hear the chatter like Dick had with Barbara (those two could talk for hours) but the ride was as eerily silent as always.

From the corner of his eyes, though, he did see their hands entwined. They held onto the other like it would keep them from disappearing.

Neither Batman nor Bruce Wayne knew what it was like to have a sibling. His adopted kids kind of did; they treated each other like brothers from what he could tell. They annoyed, teased, and pranked the crap out of each other.

But, his son had a sister. Not a full blooded sister, but a sister nonetheless. For someone who was so technical about blood relatives, he wondered how Damian treated his sister. From what he had seen so far, the boy really cared for her.

On the way home, the bat signal lit the night sky. Batman made a quick detour, heading towards the police station.

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

Gordon was surprised. He usually waited quite a while before the Dark Knight showed up. He was also surprised at the newcomer.

"Another one? Don't you stick to one at a time?" he couldn't help but ask. Though the sidekicks did a lot to help Gotham, Gordon hated the idea of putting kids in danger. Those kids fought the worst Gotham had to offer. They fought people who he, himself, feared ever facing.

How did a child go through with that? Every Robin has disappeared before, kidnapped by some madman (especially the Joker). He knew Batman didn't rest until Robin was safe, but there was always a time lapse. What horrors did those children go through? What nightmares haunted them at night?

But Gordon also knew every Robin, every partner/ sidekick was out there of his/ her own free will. No matter what happened, no matter how many times they got injured or kidnapped or tortured, they got back up. They continued fighting. Gordon had seen times when Batman was without a partner. One time when he asked about the bird's absence, he got the answer, "Robin is grounded." What for? There was no answer to that.

But if being off the streets is a punishment for these kids, they would be out there regardless of Batman. At least they had someone watching over them, protecting them, caring for them.

What kind of parents let their kids fight crime? Who wouldn't notice their kid sneaking out most nights? How could a parent be so ignorant?

Gordon had long since come to the conclusion that (though Batman and Robin were close) that they weren't father and son. They sure did act like it many times, but no one had that many kids. Well, Bruce Wayne came close, but no way that rich playboy could be Batman. Just the thought was crazy.

"What do you need?" the gruff voice asked.

"Two Face escaped. We're trying to keep it away from the media, but I'm not sure how long that will last."

"Anything else?"

He turned to look at the door. "No, that's it. If you can-" he turned back. "And they're gone. Of course."

He shut off the light, ready for his shift to end. Then he could go home. His daughter was visiting for the weekend. She might be up studying for some college test, but maybe he'd convince her to spend some time with her old man.


	13. Chapter 11: The Manor

**~ The Manor ~**

Upon arriving at the Batcave, the trio exited the car. Daire looked around, much like Damian had.

"So this is the fabled Batcave. Grandfather told us all about it." She took a few more seconds to take it all in. "It's smaller than I expected."

Batman sighed. This girl was so much like his son. He didn't want to go through this process again. He just finished with Damian.

"Another one, sir?" a formal voice called from the staircase.

"This is my sister, Pennyworth," Damian introduced.

The butler raised a curious eyebrow. "Sister?"

"Not mine," the Dark Knight added.

"So half-sister?"

"Technically, yes, but we don't use the 'half' part."

"For someone who's a stickler about being 'the blood son' I'm surprised you don't pin that detail down," another voice said.

"Shut it, Grayson."

Dick, in his Nightwing outfit, walked up to the duo. The girl cringed back, hiding behind Damian. Dick frowned but stopped.

"Hi, I'm Dick, also known as Nightwing."

"She doesn't talk to men she's unfamiliar with," Damian informed, standing proudly in front of the timid girl. Though his mother and grandfather hated the way she cringed, he felt a surge of pride protecting his sister. He was brave and strong enough to protect them both. Of course, Daire could protect herself. She just tried not to resort to violence.

"Just men?" Batman questioned, his cowl still covering his face.

"Adult men," the boy clarified.

"Why is that?" Dick inquired. Batman thought over his time with the girl, and he realized his son was right. She never once said a word to him before that night. She either ignored, fought, or cringed away from him. And when she had spoken, it was timid and soft.

"Dami!" the girl hushed, horrified as Damian started to answer. "Don't."

"Father is going to find out. He knows everything."

"He didn't know about you for ten years," the girl pointed out. "Besides, this is my past. I don't want people to know. If people know, they might make it happen again."

"Father isn't like that-" Damian tried.

"Mine was."

What happened to this girl? Batman was already forming theories, theories that didn't make him happy. How could Talia let that happen to her own daughter? I mean, she is a cold, heartless bitch, but still. Her own child? How could any mother let that happen to their child? And Damian? With how protective he was over the girl, he couldn't imagine Damian knowing about it and not stopping it. But, if his theory was correct, it would help explain Damian's protective nature with other children.

"Mine isn't. They won't," the boy insisted. Batman shook his head. There was a chance he was wrong. For once, he hoped he was wrong. "I'll kill anyone who tries."

"Damian!"

"I mean it."

Bruce wanted to protest further, but if his theory was correct, he'd have a hard time not killing the offender, too. He let the subject drop.

"Alfred, please settle Daire in the room next to Damian's."

"Alone?" the girl squeaked. "In a room? My own room?"

"I'll be in the next room," the youngest soothed. "And the doors have locks. You'll be safe. I won't let anyone hurt you again."

Both Dick and Alfred were surprised at Damian's unusual soft tone. He wasn't as gentle as a normal person, but there was emotion they hadn't thought the little devil was capable of. A type of bond they believed Talia forbid.

"Yes, Master Bruce. This way, please." He walked dutifully up the stairs. Daire didn't follow until Damian made the first step.

Bruce thought about having Damian stay, to talk to him about the situation, but decided against it. Daire didn't plan on going anywhere without the boy.

Hand-in-hand, the pair of siblings made their way up the steps. Batman and Nightwing watched silently until they left, closing the grandfather clock behind them.

"Damian has a sister?" Dick asked.

"Apparently." Batman turned back to his computer, ready to spend the next few hours learning everything he could about the girl.

"Would Talia really let something like that happen to her own child?" Dick wondered.

"I'm not sure, but I'm going to find out."

"That sucks. And by her own father? Man, I really hope we're wrong. Can't we be wrong for once?"

"I hope so, too, Dick. I hope so, too."

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

Alfred led the duo up the stairs. He strained his ears but couldn't hear the whispered conversation between the two. Master Damian's change in character had surprised him. He had come accustomed to the stoic boy.

Their conversation came to an end, and Damian's confident voice could be heard halfway down the hall. He wasn't as loud as he usually was, and his tone held a gentler note.

He listened as Damian rattled off the layout of the hall, telling the girl more than necessary. He heard the softness in the young lad's tone, the smile he was fighting. Alfred smiled to himself at the sound of the girl's giggle. As they walked past a few portraits, the topic changed again.

"He looked just like you," she noted, looking up at a picture of young Bruce and his parents.

"Actually, Miss Daire, Master Damian looks like Master Bruce."

The young duo faced him, startled as if they had forgotten his presence. Strangely, the thought made him happy. Damian needed to relax and get out more. Maybe this sister of his would help.

Wordlessly, the girl nodded, letting him know she was acknowledging her mistake. After the wave of cheer, the sorrow that flooded his heart nearly had him double over in pain. The fear and calculating look in the girl's eye was familiar. He had seen it once before, long before he came to work at the manner. And it was haunting.

His heart clenched as Damian whispered something to her. She nodded and somewhat relaxed. She trusted the boy but still kept up most of her guard. A comforting gesture, Damian took her hand in his, squeezing in reassurance.

They continued the walk to the bedrooms. Alfred offered to give a tour of the mansion, but Damian declined. He would show her around the place.

At the doors, Damian took the time to point out everyone's rooms. He then showed her his room, and the empty room beside his, now hers.

"I'll have Father buy you whatever you want," he promised. "For now, settle in. We can train this evening, if you'd like."

At the mention of something familiar to the both of them, she smiled and agreed. Yeah, it'd be nice. Alfred could see it would take some patience and time to get through her walls, but he was more than sure all the work would be worth it.

"Is there anything I can get you two?" he offered.

"Camille Tea for Daire and my usual for me, Pennyworth. That is all."

He bowed at the waist. "As you wish."

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

They stood in the hall for a minute, Damian waiting patiently for Daire to muster up the courage to open her door. Finally, she twisted the knob and pushed.

She let the door swing open, slowly revealing the luxurious room. Damian remained silent, letting his sister look around her new room. The bed was large, and he knew it was soft. Very different from the stiff cots or mats they grew up using. A walk in closet and adjacent bathroom were the other two doors in the room. A medium sized desk propped itself against the wall with the door, a few feet away. The dresser had a huge flat screen hanging above it, attached high on the wall. The walls were a bare, cream color. Damian had a nagging suspicion Daire would want to change that but wouldn't say anything. Their mother and grandfather had been strictly against personalization and other sentimental nonsense. He made a mental note to join Daire when she went out shopping for her room. He'd be able to read her and get her what she really wanted, even if she denied wanting it. Gray curtains were tied open, not that there was much to see. The gardens and lawn around the manor weren't lit up. It was still dark out, and it reminded Damian of the late hour.

Daire walked over to the desk, trailing her fingers over the smooth top. The desk was clear of any mess, but Damian had peeped in this room before. He knew the drawers had paper, notebooks, pens, and a few other office supplies.

"Brazilian Ebony," she commented, and Damian knew what she meant. The dresser was made of the strong wood.

"Yes, Father spares no expense on anything. Whatever you wish, he will provide. Money is no obstacle."

"It wasn't with Grandfather."

"Father doesn't mind blowing money on the little things. Whatever you want, Dai, all you need is ask. I will make sure you get it."

"You've changed," she whispered, not facing her brother.

His voice was full, confident. "So have you, Dai."

Turning her head back to spare him a glance, she smiled. "I think I like the new Dami."

A wave of stress he didn't know he had washed away. He found himself gifting her a soft smile. "I think you will, too." There was another period of silence as Daire walked over to the dresser, gliding her fingers along the surface of that, too.

"Dalbergia melanoxylon," she named.

"What?" a voice behind them asked.

Damian, having been focused on his sister, hadn't noticed Drake walk up on them. He didn't show it, but he was surprised.

Without turning to even look at him, Damian answered, "It's an expensive wood. It's what the dresser is carved from."

"Oh, okay. So, who's she?"

"My sister."

"Sister? Since when did you have a sister?"

"I've always had a sister, Drake. She's two years older than me."

"Wait, Bruce slept with Talia twice?"

"No, we have different fathers."

"Oh. What's she doing here?"

"What are you doing here?"

"I live here."

"Tt. Last I checked, you were in Europe."

"I finished the case early. Now, what's she doing here?"

"This is her room, Drake. She'll be living here from now on."

"Thanks for the heads up. Anyways, nice to meet you," he stepped forward, holding out his hand. He stopped halfway, waiting for Daire to meet him. "So, Damian's sister, what's your name?"

"Her name is Daire."

He sent Damian a quick glare, but the lad ignored it. "So, Daire, how are you holding up?"

"She just got here, Drake."

"I wasn't talking to you."

"Well she won't talk to you."

"Why don't you let her decide?" he growled. He was tired and so not in the mood to deal with the devil's spawn.

Daire glanced at his hand but looked away, continuing her exploration of the room.

"So, how are you liking it here?" He waited, receiving no response.

"Like I said, she doesn't talk to males."

"That's not what you said," Tim shot back, his mind showing theories and possibilities to make the girl that way. People reacted to abuse in different ways. While Damian grew heartless, Daire could have become skittish.

Alfred returned with the requested tea, surprised to see the third body. "Welcome home, Master Timothy."

"Thanks, Alfred."

"I see you've met our newest member of the family, Daire."

"Yes."

Handing the tea to Damian and Daire, Alfred went to make his leave. "Is there anything else I can get you?"

Tim requested some tea be brought up to his room, for he was retiring for the night. Alfred was glad Tim was actually sleeping. He'd probably add a slight sedative to help, in case the insomniac teen changed his mind though. Damian and Daire shook their heads. Daire was ready to be alone. This had been a long night, and she was exhausted.

"Well, it was nice meeting you, Daire. I guess we'll be seeing quite a bit of each other from now on."

Daire nodded, watching Tim make his exit.

"Can I see your room?" a soft voice asked Damian.

Sipping his tea, he lead the way. "Tt, of course."

His room was functional and the most personalized Daire had ever seen him to be. It wasn't much, but the room was tinted in his favorite color, and he had a stuffed cat on his dresser. His desk held a few text books and notebooks. A bland backpack slung on the back of the chair. Everything was neat and organized, the way they had been raised.

Damian walked over to the dresser, slipping two items from the top drawer. He set them neatly on top.

The same pictures Daire clung to were in picture frames. The beaming children looked into the camera, tiny teeth shining. There were marks from the many times they had been folded, but Daire was in awe that he actually kept them.

"Of course I kept them," he retorted when she voiced her amazement. "Mother destroyed everything else of you."

"She told you to give her everything of mine," Daire assumed. "She wanted to be rid of me entirely."

"But I kept these. I don't know why," he began to ramble, a slight blush on his cheeks.

Daire leaned forward, kissing his cheek. "I kept them, too." As proof, she pulled out the pictures.

"I knew you would."


	14. Chapter 12: The Pair

**~ The Pair ~**

Damian was seldom away from Daire. They trained together, studied together, ate together, and often ended up sharing a bed. Everyone assumed that was Daire's doing. She disliked having her brother out of sight. But Tim overheard Damian asking Daire if they could stay together, even at night. Now, maybe it was because he knew Daire would have asked anyways, but it wasn't like Damian to ask such a thing.

Damian was still stuck up, egotistical, and a know-it-all. Daire had her moments when she was similar, but she was also kind and patient.

She was quick to open up to Dick, something that was of no surprise to anyone. They spared together regularly, and Daire often waited near the front door for when he would make the drive over. He was thrilled to have a sister.

Alfred was always around, letting Daire get used to his presence rather quickly. She quickly deemed him not a threat but typically kept her distance.

Tim and Jason were in and out of the manor. Jason quickly took on the role of annoying big brother, picking on the duo every chance he got. He would visit for a few days then stay away for a few days. He was mad at Bruce, that much Daire could tell, but had a soft spot for Alfred. His attitude towards Damian was iffy. He loved to pick on him. He could be patient, though. During training he was tough but not overbearing. He had a temper, much like Damian, and got angered easily.

Tim was difficult. Sometimes he was exactly like Bruce- making her weary- and other times he was a combination of Dick and Jason: friendly and teasing. Much like Jason, Tim was away from the manor a lot. When he was around, he made some intellectual and decent conversations for someone his age. Overall, Daire decided she didn't mind his presence.

It was Bruce who took the longest to get on her good side. Despite knowing what her mother told her was a lie and having her brother beside her as proof, she acted as though she couldn't trust him. Bruce didn't trust her much, either (though that was typical), so he didn't have much room to complain.

Little was known about Daire. Just like Damian and the League of Assassins, there was hardly any info about her. All Bruce knew was what Damian had revealed. She was Talia's daughter, Damian's half sister, had morals similar to his own (which explained why Damian was so compliant with the sudden change in teachings), and was kicked out of the League for refusing to kill.

Bruce could find little about her time away from the League. City cameras caught a few glimpses of her in various places throughout the world. She spent a while under a false identity, where she worked as a waitress and lived an honest life. She had a few acquaintances, maybe some she considered friends. But one day, she disappeared. Day Ivan was still on the missing persons' list, but no one was looking for the loner.

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

Bruce watched them spar. Her tactics were much like Damian's, but she waited. It would have been hard to tell with unskilled eye, but he had been training for many years.

Yes, he had noticed it before. Her pattern.

Junk forward; dart aside; go in for the real attack; pull back.

Damian knew it, too. But he wasn't as patient. He was too confident in his abilities. He forced his way forward, making Daire step back. She focused on blocking and deflecting his series of attacks, taking mindful steps.

At first, it just looked like she was dodging whenever she could or backing up to avoid a hit, the Bruce noticed it. While her path made zigzag, she was heading for towards something.

She pushed forward every time Damian let her an opening, taking a few steps forward for every dozen or so back. She circled the giant penny twice and the dinosaur skeleton once. This made predicting exactly where she was headed difficult.

But he was the Batman. He could do anything.

And he waited. Waited for his son to lose, and this girl to win.

He'd learn something in the process.

He knew from personal experiences that Damian was a sore loser. But how would he fare this time? Against the girl he grew up with?

Damian had gotten use to their rhythm, not expecting Daire to change anything. Daire suddenly sprinted the final few feet to her destination and back flipped onto the Batmobile. Damian followed in pursuit, blind to any possible plan she had up her sleeve.

Damian jumped up, ready to fight, but Daire dropped her staff, grabbed his forearm, and swung him on the other side before he ever landed.

Damian flipped back onto his feet, now on the other side of the Batmobile. Daire picked up her staff, maintaining the high ground.

Damian let out a battle cry as he raced forward. Without warning, Daire dived into him, throwing them both to the ground.

There was a thud.

There was a grunt.

There was a moment of silence.

Bruce couldn't see Damian. He couldn't see Daire. But he could hear their heavy breathes as the result of their fight settled in.

As predicted, Daire won.

"Tt. You've improved."

"As have you."

There was rustling and two young heads popped up above the hood of the Batmobile. Neither seemed angered. Damian was content, a light frown adorn his features. Daire dared a small smile. It wasn't smug about her victory, instead it was her version of content. She was happy here, with Damian and away from the League.

Daire's lips moved, but Bruce was too far to hear the murmur.

"Enjoy the show, father?" Damian translated.

"Yes." He left his answer blunt, turning back to face the Bat computer. He still had work to do.

The echo of the clock opening and closing bounced.

"Cookies and milk, as requested," Alfred reported, stopping near Bruce.

Bruce heard two sets of footsteps. One was quick but light, eager for a treat. The other walked, though he, too, quickened his pace.

"Thank you," came the quiet words. Bruce looked up to see Daire bit into the soft chocolate chip cookie in her hands.

He reach up, taking one, too. Daire's eyes widened in alert for a moment then forced herself to calm. "Yes, thank you, Alfred."

Having Daire around wasn't going to be as bad as he originally thought.

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

Bruce hadn't tried to dissuade them much, so it was no surprise when Daire joined them on patrol. For now, she was dressed as Thorne, but she would need a new name and outfit soon.

"Sparrow?" she quietly offered over the com's. "Like Robin, a bird."

"Tt, you can do better."

Their conversation came to an abrupt end when a bank alarm sounded. "It'll do," Batman settled. "Head over to-"

"On our way," Robin cut off. Though relatively new to Gotham, both younglings studied maps and landmarks for hours and knew their way around Gotham.

They were only a few blocks away from the bank and arrived in the middle of the fight. There was one person, many times larger than Batman and swinging a safe that surely weighed a ton.

"Bane," Thorne recognized. Uses a drug called Venom to make himself nearly unbeatable. Weakness: cut off his supply to Venom.

Batman released a loud grunt of pain as the safe collided with him. It slipped from Bane's grasp, sending both Batman and the safe to the other side of the bank. With his light weight (in comparison) Batman slammed against the wall, while the safe fell and slid several feet, almost crushing the vigilante.

The security guard made his way around the corner, raising his gun and firing. Robin and Thorne hopped out of the way of stray bullets, and the others did next to nothing to Bane. With a roar of fury, Bane charged at the poor guard, wrapping a beefy hand around his waist and squeezing. The man let out a yelp of pain as Robin swung in- using a grappling hook and beams on the ceiling- and surprised Bane.

The blow did little more than make him stumble, but it did grasp his attention. He tossed the security guard to the side, earning another grunt of pain.

"Dad!" a young voice called, seeing her father on the ground. Bane had finally gotten a hold on Robin's cape and threw him through the front windows.

"Robin!" Thorne and Batman shouted. Neither had the chance to check on their teammate.

Bane was stomping towards the little girl, who was frozen with fear at the loud monster before her. Thorne was quick to respond, tossing smoke bombs around Bane. Thorne ignored Bane, running through and snatching the girl around the waist and taking off. Bane stepped back with a cough then charged forwards, knowing his prisoner was being rescued. The small yelp of shock didn't help either girl.

But Batman had recovered from the earlier blow, throwing Bat-a-rangs and distracting Bane long enough for Thorne to get the girl away.

Batman got in close, attempting to pull out the tubes feeding him Venom. But Bane wasn't having it. His plan was foiled, he wasn't going to get his money even if he could escape the Bat, and his hostage plan was not a possibility. He was mad.

He swung blindly at Batman, making the smaller and weaker man focus on dodging.

Thorne brought the child outside, using the chance to check on Robin. Said bird was already up, ready to charge back into the fight.

Thorne went to go with him, but the child held her back.

"Dad! What about Daddy? No! Please don't leave me!"

"Robin!" she growled.

"On it." Within a minute, the security guard was running out of the building: hurt but not broken.

"Daddy!" the girl cried, finally freeing Thorne to run into her father's arms.

"Get her out of here," Thorne demanded, running back into the bank.

She arrived just in time to watch Bane wrap Batman to one of the columns with a metal pole (one of the poles that once connected support beams/ columns).

Batman was stuck, slowly melting the bar while watching his partner and new teammate take on his strongest (physically) villain.

His fears proved to be for nothing. The young duo worked well as a team. It was pleasant surprise for the Dark Knight. They had each other's backs and easily made up what the other lacked.

Ruthlessness and compassion; quick and planned; attack and trap. Both the children were skilled and had years of experience together. They reminded Batman of the first Robin and himself.

Robin was quick and demanded attention, becoming the target of most of Bane's attacks. Thorne was more calculated but just as quick. She fit well into the background, blocking and delivering blows as needed.

They moved in time and never got in the other's way. Their upbringing showed in their fighting style, matching and most strikes meant to be deadly. But both swayed their blows a little, avoiding the kill. Every now and then one caught a punch, but the other kept Bane occupied until they recovered.

One of Bane's blows knocked Thorne up in the ceiling. She flew up around the triangular structure, barely catching a beam before her trip down. She pulled herself up, needing a breather. Though it took a minute, she caught her breath and followed the fight from above. She pulled out a borrowed bat-a-rang, waiting.

Robin noticed, subtly guiding Bane to the perfect spot then holding him there. It was the perfect balance between dodging and attacking.

Thorne let herself fall, easily slicing the tubes filled of Venom open and leaking the chemical all over. Without his fix, Bane quickly shrunk to normal size and was handcuffed just as Batman freed himself.

He kept his praise simple and short. "Good job."

Having Thorne around might not be so bad, after all.


	15. Chapter 13: The Family Business

**~ The Family Business ~**

"So?" Bruce prompted, watching the girl test the movement in her new uniform. It was mostly black with highlights of brown and deep blue on her chest, outer arms and legs. She had a surprisingly heavy, bright yellow utility belt around her waist. A domino mask covered her eyes, and she had a black cloak that fell to her mid-calves. Her hair was tied into a low ponytail, sloppily pulled into a baggy bun. Her boots were an old pair from the original Robin's. They looked relatively new, and it turns out Grayson hit a growth spurt soon after getting them. All in all, the outfit fit her.

"It suits you well, Miss Daire."

"Uh, thank you."

"Yes, you don't look bad," complimented Damian. It wasn't the best, but Bruce let it slide. He was trying.

"Thanks, Dami." She glanced in the mirror for a split second, but otherwise fought to keep her gaze away from the reflection. Bruce didn't fail to notice this. "It fits." She swung her torso side to side, her feet planted firmly on the ground, then did a back hand spring. "It's flexible." She pulled out her katana, swinging it through the air with a shout. "It doesn't hinder my attacks." She sheathed her blade, turning to Bruce. "It works."

"Do you like it?"

"It works."

"But do you like it?"

"Yes."

His hand went to the com in his ear. "You hear that, Nightwing? You did a good job on the suit."

"Tt," the siblings sighed in unison.

"We still have a few hours before dark. Want to train?"

"Best two out three?"

"You're on!"

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

It was Daire's first patrol as Sparrow. Like she did as Thorne, she kept up with the Dark Knight and his partner with ease.

The night was rather slow. They stopped a break in, ended a few muggings, prevented an assault, and helped people escape a small building fire.

As the final victim was brought to safety, the Bat signal followed the sky.

Batman glared up at the sky, stalking toward the police station without warning. His partners followed wordlessly. They jumped from rooftop to rooftop, making a beeline to meet Commissioner Gordon.

Until they were cut off.

A figure landed in front of the trio, a knife in hand. The figure didn't say a word, going straight for the attack. Batman easily deflected the blade. The man was trained, however, and stepped straight into his next attack.

Robin jumped in, letting out his battle roar and attempting to overwhelm his opponent. But the man matched him strike for strike.

"Die, child."

Finally getting a one-up on Robin, he went for the kill.

"No!" Sparrow shrieked, blocking the swipe with a bat-a-rang. She stepped between the fighters, grabbing his wrist and twisting. He dropped the blade and fell when Sparrow hit the back of his knee.

He kicked out his other leg, knocking the children over. Before he could kill them, Batman returned.

Batman pushed the man back. Robin helped Sparrow to her feet, then went to join the fight. Sparrow shot out her arm, holding him back. Robin glanced up in confusion; Sparrow narrowed her eyes at the duel.

She recognized the style. It was hers. Not exact, but close. She recognized the lapse. Heretic.

But he wasn't supposed to be back for another week. He got sidetracked with another mission while he was out of town.

The mission was planned to be a week long, but plans do change. Could he have finished early? Is this Heretic?

The man fought with rage, making him sloppy but not sloppy enough.

"Die, you bastard!" he bellowed. He pulled out a knife from his sleeve, close enough to do damage. Batman threw a bat-a-rang, knocking the knife out of his hand.

Batman pushed him back, retreating to his two young partners.

It was a stand off. Everyone was tense, ready to fight, hands in fists, eyes trained on the enemy. Every move attracted attention, and fingers twitched for weapons.

But it was still.

"You'll pay for what you did, you coward!"

Sparrow recognized the voice and asked, "Heretic?"

His stance faltered. "D- Daire, is that- is that you?"

"Yes." She dropped her fighting stance, as did their opponent. The dynamic duo stayed tense, ready for a fight.

"You're alive?"

"Yes."

And with- with him?"

"Yes."

Eyes darted to the Batman and back to her. "But- But why?"

Batman's gaze went to the signal in the sky. Gordon needed him; they didn't have time for this. He was already behind schedule.

"Go," Sparrow relieved. "He won't hurt me. I got this." Without a word, Batman nodded, firing a grappling hook and taking off. "You, too," she said to Robin.

Robin didn't want to leave Sparrow, but something told him this was personal. While he usually a nosy person, he'd let his sister have this moment. He planned on bombarding her with questions later, anyways. What's a few more?

He, too, left.

When they were alone, Heretic repeated, "Why?"

"Because of Damian."

"But Batman killed-"

"No, he didn't. My brother is alive."

Heretic's gaze fell upon Robin's retreating form, glaring. "That _traitor_ is not your brother."

And it hit Daire all at once.

"You knew," she breathed, shocked.

"The Damian you knew is dead, buried by the Batman and forced to take a different road. The Damian you knew wouldn't hesitate to kill, remember? He was ruthless, cunning, and always went straight for the kill. That _boy_ is not your brother. Not anymore."

"You knew Dami was alive. You knew and you didn't tell me! You knew and you tried to convince me to kill him!" she accused, remembering the one discussion where Heretic said killing Robin would make it easier to kill the Bat.

"He's not your brother. I am, remember? He betrayed you; he betrayed the League. It's our job to kill traitors. It's what we do."

"No! Dami didn't betray me! I betrayed him! I betrayed him by joining the League, by killing again, and by almost killing his father. He may have betrayed your precious League, but remember I betrayed it first. If you should kill anyone- any traitor- it should be me."

"What about the League? Talia? You're to rule the world. It's your bloodline."

"No! It's not. Not anymore. I'm not going back to the League of Assassins. I'm staying with my brother. I'm officially out of the family business, and so is Damian. We've made our choice, and this is it."

Heretic frowned as Sparrow took out her katana. He placed a heavy hand on his sword, swallowing.

"It doesn't have to be this way, sister. I am your brother, too."

"YOU ARE NOT MY BROTHER! My brother is strong, resilient, and cunning, but he is not a liar. He doesn't bend the truth and manipulate others to get his way. He is straightforward and honest."

Heretic narrowed his eyes. "He's killed far more people than you have."

"Maybe he's a little cruel; a bit rough around the edges. So what? It's what he was taught. It's how he grew up. When I left the League, I was the same way. He did what he had to in order to survive. All he needs is love, patience, and time. He will learn. If there's nothing else he can do, he can learn. He's a fast learner."

"What about me?" Heretic questioned, his grip on his weapon tightening.

"What about you?" Sparrow spat. "We didn't grow up together. We don't share any memories, we didn't train and learn together like Dami and I did. You may have the same DNA, but you are not him. You have no memories- no important ones, anyways. You have no soul. You're just an empty shell doing whatever Mother asks, desperately trying to get her approval." Heretic stiffened at her words, realizing the truth in them but wanting to deny them all the same.

"She's not the only person I tried to get approval from."

Heretic dashed forward, his sword out and aimed for Sparrow's chest.

But Sparrow had years of training on him, despite appearances. Sparrow had learned from her mistakes and had the time and training to correct them, to make her reflexes perfect. She pulled out her katana, leaving the tip in the sheath as the blade knocked Heretic's off course.

He stumbled forward, not expecting the trick of few movements. He thought Daire had showed him everything when she trained him. He thought he could one- up her, even with all her experience.

He was wrong.

Sparrow released her hold on the katana, using his own momentum to flip him over. He landed painfully on his back, his weapon falling out of his hand.

" _Your weapon is your life,"_ he remembered Daire telling him. " _If you lose it, you're dead. No matter what happens, never. Let go. Of your. Weapon._ "

So, was this it?

Was he to be killed by the one person who ever showed him kindness? The one person who treated him like a human, rather than a tool? The person who taught him what compassion and love and patience?

"You. Are. Not. My brother."

He felt the tip of a blade press against his chest, and he closed his eyes. He wished things had turned out different. He wished he could have had the chance to know the original. He wished Daire could love him the she so obviously loved her real brother. He wished he knew why Damian meant so much to Daire. He wished he could mean just as much.

And the blade was gone.

"Goodbye, Heretic."

He opened his eyes, seeing a dark figure take off after the long since faded figures of the infamous dynamic duo.

Daire hadn't killed him.

But why?

Maybe he still had a chance. Maybe he could find a way to get Daire to come back to him, to be his sister. She could show him the art of gift giving, kindness, and cuddling. She had told him stories of her teaching the original all of those things. Maybe they could sneak into the kitchen for a snack or a rare but delicious sweet. Maybe Daire would forget about Damian, and it would be just the two of them. Daire could teach him what being a brother meant, what having a sister was really like.

The bond she described between her and her real brother- Heretic craved it. He wanted to mean something to someone. He wanted to be cared for. He wasn't just a tool. He'd show her that. He'd show everyone.

One day.

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

He wasn't looking forward to it, but he knew it'd be better to get the video conference over with. Sooner was better than later. He set up the laptop, listening to the song like ringing as he waited.

He didn't wait long.

"What is it?" Talia snapped. No greetings, no pleasantries. Straight to business. And lucky him (sarcasm), it appeared he caught her in a bad mood.

Heretic reported, "Daire is alive. She knows Damian is Robin and has teamed up with the Batman."

She raised an eyebrow, noticing his stoic expression. But she didn't comment.

He continued, "I tried to finish the mission, but the Batman got away. I spoke with Daire and tried to convince her to come back, but she refused. She is also wearing a new suit."

Talia gave a slow, calculating nod. "I see. The mission has failed. Return at once. We'll capture the Bat some other day."

"That's it?" he asked, surprised. "We're giving up.

Talia glared into the camera. "Absolutely not! He will join me, so will my son and daughter. But it's not the right time to attack. That opportunity was missed. But there will be another." Her features softened, her voice taking on a kinder note. "Return home, Heretic. I have a plan, but I'll need your help."

"Yes, ma'am."


	16. Chapter 14: The Blood Son

AN: I know it's been a couple weeks since I've updated. Sorry! I went to see my parents and didn't have time to write, but I'm back!

 **~ The Blood Son ~**

Sparrow didn't catch up with the dynamic duo until they returned to the cave. Every time they started to meet up, something came up.

Sparrow obtained a bike from one of Batman's safe houses and rode into the Batcave with grace.

Robin was pacing, marching up to Sparrow the moment she parked the bike. "What did he want?"

"Nothing." She didn't feel like keeping secrets, but she was in no mood to talk about it. Robin went to protest but was pulled into a firm hug. He didn't hug her back but allowed it to continue. "You're here; I'm here. That's all that matters. That all that will ever matter."

"Tt, a bit emotional tonight, aren't you?" He didn't know why he didn't just accept the kind gesture. He loved it, didn't really want it to end.

"When am I not?" she shrugged, releasing him.

Robin didn't answer.

Batman watched from the bat computer. He had planted a bug on Sparrow's utility belt, but it had been disabled soon after leaving the cave. It was before they had separated; he had no way of knowing what happened after they left.

Sparrow removed her mask, beaming. She didn't have any marks on her face, but her suit covered much of her body so the possibility of a fight couldn't be ruled out yet. She seemed fine. A bit shaken but fine. He noticed her keeping a closer eye on Damian. It wasn't uncommon, but this time seemed different.

"Daire," he finally called, when she handed him that night's report. She stopped, facing him. Her body stiffened but she tried to appear otherwise relaxed. "What did you and Vidar- Heretic-" he wanted her to know he remembered her slip up, "-talk about?"

Her eyes darted to Damian, who looked focused on his report but was eavesdropping.

Bruce nodded. "I see."

Through the corner of her eyes, she saw Damian glance up. He hadn't heard a response- because she didn't give a verbal response- and didn't know what his father was talking about.

"Is there anything-"

"No," she interrupted. It was so quick, Bruce had half a mind to press further, but he doubted he'd get far. He nodded, accepting the end of the conversation and started turning his chair back to the screen. "Just-" Bruce paused, looking up at Daire. "Just, thank you for taking care of Dami. For-" she struggled for the right words, "getting him away from the League."

Bruce nodded. That was all he needed to know what happened between her and Heretic, including Heretic's actions before they left. Damian was considered a traitor of the League, and so was Daire. Their bloodline wouldn't protect them from the extreme consequences the League sought. But being with the Batman gave them an extra blanket of security. Talia had a soft spot for him, and she surely had a softer spot for her children.

They would be safe from the full force of the League of Assassins. He could handle that.

Although, something else was bothering him.

"How did you get into my safe house?"

The only answer he received was, "If there's a will there's a way."

So helpful.

oOoOoOoOoOo

Damian stormed into Bruce's office, a newspaper in hands. Daire was surprised the Wayne household bothered, but apparently Alfred enjoyed reading them in his spare time (though Daire had never seen him get a second of it). The furious boy slammed the paper onto his father's desk, hand overshadowing but bringing attention to the front page headline.

 **Bruce Wayne adopts another boy!**

Bruce cocked an eyebrow. "Yes, Damian?"

"I'm not adopted," Damian growled between clenched teeth. Daire could only imagine how much this was hurting him. He spent his entire life idolizing his father, even when he didn't know who his father was. He heard rumors growing up, short stories told by his grandfather and mother about his big, strong, brave father. When he finally was told who his father was, he soaked up every known bit of information. He looked up to his father. He went against all he had ever known for his father. He left the League of Assassins, his mother, his home for his father.

And here his father was, not claiming his hard working son as his own.

"I'm your son, your blood son."

Poor Damian.

His small body shook with fury. His hands pulled into fists, the room feeling hotter than it actually was. He was angry and confused. Was he not good enough? Did his father not see how hard he was trying? How much he was changing? Did his father not wanted him? Was he just a nuisance Bruce got stuck with? Was he wanted here?

Tears threatened to prick his eyes but he held them back. No, he wasn't going to cry over something so mundane. If his father didn't want him, fine. He lived ten years without his father being a part of his life, he could spend the rest of his life without his father.

But where would he go then? Back to League of Assassins, to his mother? But Bruce was so sure what they were doing was wrong, and as much as Damian acted like he didn't care, he cared. All he wanted was acceptance. Every fiber of his being strove for it. The crossroads of his biology: mother wanted death and father wanted life. The contradicted each other like nothing he had ever seen. Picking one meant betraying the other. A no win situation for him. But if he couldn't make his father satisfied, he could make his mother pleased. His talent and skill were far above most. His mother always admired his ferocity and natural abilities.

But would Daire follow him?

Of course, Daire. She probably wouldn't want to go back. To be honest, he didn't want to go back either. Where would they go? They weren't children- though they looked like children- but it would be difficult for them to live without a legal adult. Then again, Daire found a way before. Yeah, they'd be fine.

But he didn't want to leave. He was. . . content- happy (though he'd never admit it out loud)- here in Gotham. As strange as it was, he enjoyed helping people. He felt pleased when someone thanked him, or when villains cowered in fear. He was known to be rougher than the three previous Robins. He found the no killing rule obnoxious, but he sometimes viewed it as a challenge. Killing was too easy and ended things too quick.

"I'm not adopted."

"I know, Damian, but-"

"No buts! Why can't I just be Damian Wayne? Your son?" Damian hated his voice in that moment. It was creeping into hysteria. He cleared his throat, hardening his glare. "I'm your son, Father. Either take responsibility or dump me back with Mother."

Bruce blinked, but before he could respond Damian marched out of the room. He turned to Daire, whose expression showed empathy for her younger brother.

"He admired you," Daire murmured, her voice so soft Bruce almost missed it. "For a long while, you were all he talked about. Even when he didn't know your name or your vigilante name, he dreamt of knowing you. All he wants-" she paused. Did she have the right to reveal this much about Damian? "All he wants is- is-"

"Master Bruce," Alfred interrupted, walking into the room. "I hate to disturb but Miss Abigail is here to see you."

Bruce rose from his seat. "Yes, thank you, Alfred." He walked out, only pausing when he stood beside Daire. He didn't look at her, but he said, "I know. I'm not good at this sort of stuff, even after raising three boys. I don't know what to say to him. Talia- the League- Ra's- You- You were both raised. . ." he trailed off, but Daire knew what he meant.

She nodded, wordlessly.

Bruce walked out.

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

Patrol that night was busy. The trio split up several times to take care of everything going on. Bane was going on a crime spree, robbing bank after bank in Gotham. More crooks attempted smaller robberies, and they were constantly on the move.

Catwoman decided to make an appearance around one in the morning. Batman insisted handling her alone, and sent his two sidekicks to patrol the center of Gotham.

Damian was still distraught, and it showed in his fighting. He wasn't sloppy, but he was more aggressive. Most of the people he fought ended up in the hospital, strengthening his reputation as the brutal Robin.

The police radios sent a out a warning: Bane was spotted at Gotham's First Bank.

Sparrow and Robin exchanged glances. They were only three blocks away.

"I think we should call Batman," Sparrow tried, on the way.

"Tt, we don't need him."

"True, but Bane is. . . Bane."

"So?"

Sparrow shrugged.

"If you want to call Father, go ahead. I'm not stopping you."

Sparrow put her hand to her com. "Batman?" Nothing. "Batman, you there? We have-"

" _Busy_ ," was the abrupt response, then his com clicked offline.

Sparrow rolled her eyes. If his history with Catwoman was anything to go off of, he'd be gone for a while.

"Men," she tutted.

Bane was not so subtly carrying the bank's vault out. He marched down the street.

Robin leapt off the building, landing on Bane's head and cutting a tube of venom open. But Bane jerked in surprise, throwing Robin aside. Robin recovered quickly, landing on his hand and feet, crouched low to the ground. His free hand held the bat-a-rang, the tips green with venom.

Bane set down the vault, the force of it shaking the ground, and turned to Robin. He looked side to side, then up at me.

"No Batman?" The thought pleased him.

"No, you're not that lucky," Robin retorted. Small and quick, Robin dashed up to him, dodging every swing aimed at him. Robin was still fueled on anger, letting it improve his strength.

Bane eventually got a hit, throwing Robin through the glass windows of the bank.

"Robin!" Sparrow shouted, jumping down. She did what came natural and ran to check on her brother. Suddenly, she hit the ground, barely dodging the telephone pole Bane swung her way.

Bane swung it back, but this time Sparrow jumped over it. The pole went over Bane's head, zooming toward Daire. Daire did a cartwheel to the side, though the force of the telephone phone hitting the ground through her off balance. It made her next few dodges sloppy, but she managed.

When Robin returned, she backed off. They tag teamed for a while, distracting Bane while the other caught their breath, then going in together. But Bane was oddly careful. He didn't let them get close enough to mess with the venom, keeping him fueled and strong.

Sparrow went in, sending a multitude of punches to Bane. Bane instinctively used his buff arms to block it. Robin used it as a chance to fly over his head, bat-a-rang in hand. But before Robin could cut the tubes, Bane grabbed Robin by the ankle, slamming the boy against the road. He barely let out a grunt, his eyes closed and body limp.

"ROBIN!" Daire screamed. Fear, anger, love, and more swam through her, tunneling her vision. Tunnel vision is bad, she knew that. It stopped her from focusing on her surroundings, blocking everything but the obvious out. But seeing her brother unconscious on the ground was too much for her. She let out a roar.

Bane wasn't fast enough to dodge even a fourth of what Sparrow dealt out, but he was buff enough for it to not bother him. Rather than wasting time, he tried to grab her. Sparrow slipped through his grasp several times, flipping over him and partially slicing more tubes. But he was still getting enough venom.

He swung around, his arm colliding with Sparrow's mid section and flinging her away. She slammed into a wall, the brick dizzying her head and giving her shoulders waves of pain.

Still, she stood back up. She had faced worse sparring with her grandfather. She blinked the black dots away, her movements a bit sluggish but still agile. Bane simply waited, swinging punches and street stuff at her until she grew tired.

He didn't have to wait long. Her and Robin had wasted almost on hour fighting him. Wherever Batman was, Bane was glad it wasn't here. Everyone knew his little sidekicks were his Achilles Heel.

Bane launched forward, grabbing for Sparrow. Sparrow could only keep her distance for so long, then Bane grabbed her by the cape and flung her down the street. Bane made his way over, but Sparrow couldn't move. Bane grabbed her by the torso- his hand easily wrapping around her slim waist- and tossed her towards Robin.

The last thing she saw was the back of Robin's head, then darkness surrounded her. She welcomed it, her body hurting and sore, her mind drained and tired.


	17. Chapter 15: The Last Word

**~ The Last Word ~**

Batman didn't move, standing in the middle of the ruined street. Police cruisers barricaded the area off, and the crime scene investors scanned the place.

No one dared to bother Batman. His was livid and hating himself. Robin and Sparrow were gone. Gone. Gordon showed him a surveillance video from a few buildings down. It recorded parts of the fight and ended with Bane dragging an unconscious young duo off.

" _Busy_ ," was Batman's last word to them.

He should have arrested Catwoman instead of indulging himself. He should have resisted her advances. He should have been there for his son and his son's sister.

" _Busy._ "

He shouldn't have said that. He shouldn't have brushed them off. He shouldn't have turned off his com. He shouldn't have left them on their own to fight Bane.

" _Busy._ "

He should have been listening to the police scanners. He should have known something was wrong. Damian wouldn't have let Daire contact him if everything was fine. He should have known. He should have done something.

He should have, should have, should have-

But he didn't. He didn't and now wasn't the time to wallow in self pity. Now was to find the two children depending on him. He wouldn't fail them a second time.

Batman spun on his heels, striding to the Batmobile. He ignored the looks officers sent him. They all knew what happened to Robin and Batman's newest sidekick.

Gordon was the only one brave enough to confront him. He stood between Batman and the Batmobile.

"We'll let you know if we find anything," he promised, stepping aside. He wasn't going to wastes Batman's time. The sooner he found those kids the better. The sooner they were rescued, the less horrors they'd endure.

Batman gave a grunt for a thanks. Gordon accepted it, knowing the Dark Knight had a lot on his plate (that and the man was one of few words).

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

Damian was the first of the young duo to wake up. His body ached, but it was something he had dealt with for much of his childhood.

His throbbing head made opening his eyes unwanted, but he the last thing he remembered was fighting Bane and he forced them open.

Hands tied above his head, his toes barely grazed the floor. That explained the ache in his shoulders. The dimmed lights made it easier for him to keep his eyes open. The mostly barren room held only a couple of tables, a chair, and barrels of something (probably venom). He looked up. The rope around his wrists were tight but at least he didn't have to pick a lock. Before working on an escape, he glanced at Daire. Her mask still clung to her face, she was still Sparrow. It was then he noticed his mask still hid his identity. Good. They were in the same dilemma, just feet away from each other. Her head hung, her breathing shallow and even. Apart from her chest, she didn't move. Her Sparrow outfit was ragged and torn, his Robin getup barely in better shape.

They appeared to be alone. Robin could hear shuffling in the other room but no footsteps strode closer.

"D- Sparrow. Sparrow. Sparrow, wake up," he called, his voice a rough whisper. The walls weren't soundproof, and he wasn't taking any chances on being heard before their escape. His sister stirred but didn't awaken. "Tt." But he wasn't mad. She looked like the aftermath of a severe sparing with their grandfather: tired and beaten. Even sleeping, she didn't seem at ease.

He huffed, pulling himself up then dropping himself back down when he noticed the missing utility belt. A heavy puff of air left his nostrils at the minor inconvenience. But Ra's Al Ghul trained him from birth and Batman trained him for the past few months. He was more than capable of escaping the feeble rope without any weapons.

True to his belief, his feet blandly flatly on the concrete floor not even thirty seconds later. He rotated his wrists, squeezing his mouth shut to prevent a wince from escaping as the blood flowed back through his arms. He gently lowered Sparrow to the ground, taking off his hood and cape so she wasn't on the hard, cold concrete. It wasn't much, but it was something. And she looked more comfortable laying down that hanging by her wrists.

That done, Robin looked around. The only way out was through the only door, but he wasn't sure if there was anyone on the other side of the door. He found their utility belts laying on a table. He put his on, then managed to get Sparrow's on her for when she woke up.

Having nothing else to do, Robin cracked open the door. He cringed at the slight creak, but no one else heard it. He slipped through the opening as soon as it was wide enough and scanned the place. Bane was not so quietly working out a few rooms down. That was what he was hearing when he was tied up. Before he could find a way out, an obnoxious knock rattled at the door.

Bane dropped whatever weights he was working with, hurrying to answer it. Robin slipped back into the room he woke up in, keeping the door ajar.

Robin's eyes widened at the sight of Oswald Cobblepot, the Penguin. He hobbled in, complaining about the wait.

Robin released a silent but annoyed sigh. With Sparrow out of commission, he was both out numbered and out muscled. Bane being his biggest problem, but Penguin was a threat, too.

It didn't take long for them to come into the room, nor did it take long for them to pin Robin and tie him back up. Penguin didn't take any chances, chaining Sparrow up, too. His men were not careful. Robin growled when the man handling Sparrow carelessly tossed her over his shoulder, pulling a strangled groan from the unconscious girl.

"Ooh, protective of the other little bat, eh, Robin?" Penguin mused.

"Her name's Sparrow."

"Another bird, eh? Goody. I like clipping the wings of spoiled brats."

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

"Where's Robin and Sparrow?" a growl emitted from the shadows, seemingly everywhere with the echoes of the warehouse.

Bane didn't answer, just flexed his pumped muscles and grinned. Batman wasn't as strong as him, but the man's skill made up for the lack of strength. He found fighting the Dark Knight fun.

Batman growled and threw a Bat-a-rang, wasting no time in cutting off Bane's venom supply. Bane couldn't respond fast enough, and the chemical poured onto the floor. Bane quickly shrunk back to his naturally feeble self. Bane's neck jerked when Batman yanked him up, cowl covered eyes glaring at the criminal.

"Where. Are. My. Kids?"

"Not here, Batman."

"Tell me!"

"What are you gonna do? Kill me?"

"Don't tempt me."

"Avenge this Robin like you did the second one?"

"I'm not losing another Robin. Never again. If that means I break a few necks, so be it." Bane had never heard Batman so mad, so convincing. He wasn't sure if Batman was being serious (though when wasn't he?), and didn't want to find out.

"I sold them."

"You what?" Batman roared, slamming him against the ground. Bane's head bounced on the smooth concrete, a loud pang jolting through the air.

It took Bane a few moments to blink the black spots away.

"To who?"

"P- Penguin."

Batman didn't waste another second. He dropped Bane to the ground and made his way outside. He gave Gordon an all clear sign, and a team ran inside.

"Ro-" the Commissioner begun.

"Penguin."

Gordon went to respond, to confirm he understood, but the Dark Knight hopped in his Batmobile and took off. With the two kids' still M.I.A., he didn't blame the brooding man.

But he didn't have time to waste. His men dragged a venom-less Bane out. The man's thin form already looked pale and unstable without it's addiction running through his body's veins.

Without venom, Bane wasn't much trouble. One squad car to take him back to the precinct would be suffice. The rest of them could meet Batman at The Iceberg Lounge.

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

In no mood for games, Batman barged in. He didn't hold back, knocking men twice his size out with a single punch. He broke bones, spirits, and will of man after man. Those with guns faced even more of his mighty wrath. He didn't slow, didn't make a mistake, occasionally delivering an extra punch in case whoever he was fighting wasn't out yet.

A few fled back the way he came. Batman let them. He had no time to waste. Robin- his son- and Sparrow- Robin's sister- were in trouble.

Meanwhile, the birds were laid against a bare wall. Oswald sat on a velvet throne, an umbrella by his side. A dozen men were scattered around the room, waiting in unease as the sounds of their comrades falling grew.

Sparrow had finally opened her eyes, but Robin wasn't sure if she was in any condition to fight. She tried assuring him she was fine, but he knew better. She was like him in that matter (raised the same), weakness is equivalent to failure, and failure is forbidden.

The chains wrapped around them, but now loose and unlocked. Robin normally would have jumped straight up and started beating the life out of the thugs who hurt his sister, but he realized it might not be the best idea. The perfect time was coming- quickly- but wasn't quite here.

A final thud shook the big door, then silence. Robin jumped them, quickly slipping from his chains and taking out the two guys in front of them.

This got everyone's attention on them, giving Batman an extra second to take in the new environment and proceed to his first victim. Both men held back their deadly abilities but fought with a rare aggression (even for the ex- assassin).

The duo eventually came together, taking out the last few bad guys. They paused, staring at each other.

Neither were sure when, but Sparrow had moved. Penguin tried one last attack, but was knocked out with a sturdy punch before pulling the trigger on his umbrella.

She walked over to her brother, looking at the Dark Knight. They had failed. They had been caught, beaten, and we're now going to stripped of this life. Batman would ground them for life, surely not wanting such disappointments to be fighting at his side.

Then, something unexpected happened.

Batman's shoulders dipped in relief and he fell to his knees. Gloved hands pulled the two startled children into his grasp.

"Thank God," he breathed. "You're okay. You're both okay."

Neither child knew what to do, both unaccustomed to the strange level of concern from their guardian. They botched settled upon, "Tt, of course."

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

Back at the Batcave, Bruce had them both thoroughly checked out by Alfred. Both children insisted their good health, claiming to only have received a few bumps and bruises.

"We've done worse to each other," Damian grumbled, as if it somehow made this all nothing.

"That was an accident," Daire barked in reminder. Both were in a grumpy mood. "A happy accident, but an accident. But he's not wrong. We've had even worse sparring with our grandfather."

"I'd hardly call upon the great Ra's Al Ghul for tips on child caring."

"Watch it, Pennyworth," Damian warned.

"No, he's right," Bruce inputted. "Your mother and grandfather had-" he had to pause, "-their own ideas on raising you two. I'm not like them. People get hurt in this line of work; it's how it is. I do not want you covering up any injuries you sustain out there, understood? You are not to fight through the pain or whatever your grandfather told you to do. When we get back to the cave, you are to report every scratch to Alfred and I. Am I clear?"

"Yes, Father."

"Daire?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. Now, I'm also very proud for how you both handled yourselves today. Good work."

The siblings blinked. "What?"

For the second time that night, he knelt before the children. "Damian, I know I have a hard time showing it, but I do care for you. Daire, I may not have said it, but I see you as a daughter. You don't have to, but you can call be dad- or Father- if you want. I don't mind."

Damian clutched Daire's hand, giving his silent approval.

Daire couldn't fight the smile. "Thanks, Father," she whispered.

The little family had another group hug.

"Aw!" A fourth body slammed against them, on the other side of Damian and Daire, squeezing them in a sandwich.

"Grayson!"


	18. Chapter 16: The Youngest

Note: words in these mean in a different language (languages stated).

* * *

 **~ The Youngest ~**

It was Dick's idea to play dress-up. Everyone knew that, and no one else wanted to play. So why did they?

No one really knows. They just couldn't say no to Dick Grayson.

So they all put on clothes that didn't fit, slapped on foreign masks, and glanced around.

"Tt, you look ridiculous," Damian tutted. "This is pointless."

"You used to love dress up," Daire reminded.

"He did?" everyone else asked.

"When I was three."

"You were so cute, dressed up like a-"

"Don't say it!" he shouted, his cheeks flushing pink. His eyes trailed over to his father, then to the mischievous eyes of his adopted brothers. "Don't ever day it!"

Daire could sense his embarrassment and smiled, tauntingly. "Say what? That you used to dress up as-"

"Daire! I'm warning you!"

"No," Jason cut in, chuckling. He really wanted Daire to finish. "Tell us. We won't laugh." It was a lie. An obvious lie.

"Speak for yourself," Tim inputted, voice muffled. Damian couldn't see it through the Red Hood mask, but he was sure Tim was smirking. "I'll probably die laughing."

Damian was glad his family couldn't see his eyes behind the cowl, but he couldn't think of a subtle way to turn this around. Daire wasn't one for humiliation of others- she'd been known to take the blame to spare another- but that was years ago. This Daire was more like Dick (outgoing and emotional) and Jason (sarcastic and not afraid to say what came across her mind).

Though, she hadn't made the obvious hint, despite him wearing a it.

He refused to look down. The weight of the cowl and cape felt heavy on his small shoulders. He wasn't wearing as much armor as his father wore on patrol, but he could feel the soreness his body would know tomorrow. Nothing he couldn't handle or hadn't handled before, but there nonetheless.

"Come on," Jason joked. "What did he use to dress up as? A pretty princess?"

"Abso-" Damian started, but would he rather that than the truth? No. "Absolutely not, Todd! I would never de-"

"Watch the words about to come out of your mouth, boy," Daire cautioned, her eyes narrowing. This was the new Daire, the part of his sister he was still getting used to. She would never threaten him like that before. And it was a threat. Her hand clenched, fist raised to her waist in warning.

Damian clamped his mouth shut. Even without being a part of the League, Daire hadn't slipped on her training. She had focused on different techniques, catching Damian off guard. Though he knew many styles of fighting, he mostly stayed within the League and her members. The point of that: he had a possibility of losing of it came down to a fight.

Daire smiled with fake innocence. In her native language (Arabic) she asked, "What will the great Dami do to keep this from getting out?"

"Tt." He knew his father and Drake spoke Arabic. He knew all the Wayne's knew multiple languages (he was sure Jason spoke some Spanish, enough to get around), but he didn't know how many or which ones weren't on that list.

"If you that's your answer, I'll tell everyone about how cute you looked in that-"

"Father and Drake speaks Arabic!" Damian quickly interrupted.

A light blush danced across her face, eyes glancing at the stoic pair.

(Chinese) "This language okay?" Damian shook his head. (Swedish) "Do you understand this?" The question was directed at the others, but they kept their expressions neutral. Well, except Jason, who looked beyond lost.

Damian decided to use the old, forgotten language they learned as children. The name of the language was unknown, and only a few people in the League of Assassins spoke it.

(Unknown) "Don't tell them anything!"

Daire smiled, sweetly. "But you were so cute! I'm sure they all would love to hear about it."

Damian glared at her. She spoke in English on purpose. Daire was building their curiosity. They wouldn't let either of them forget this, and would demand an answer.

Grayson, he mentally growled.

"If you tell them that, I'll tell them of the time you-" he had to think. What was something so embarrassing, she wouldn't tell who he dressed up as?

"The time I what?" She was smirking, knowing he was struggling to come up with things. Most of what they found embarrassing as children (like training mistakes and her occasional refusal to kill) wouldn't be as secret worthy as he wanted.

Then it hit him.

His eyes lite up. "I'll tell of the time you thought people were trapped in the t.v. and freaked out."

Distantly, he heard someone wonder, "What? What did she think?"

Light blush filled her cheeks. She pondered for a moment. "Then I'd tell them of the time you had your first cookie."

Damian didn't remember it exactly, but he had heard the story. He had been three years old. Daire and himself never had sweets before. They ate proper food and junk food was banned from the League (typically), anyways. But Daire's father had returned from a mission the day before. He had brought some cookies back with him. Simple sugar cookies, but delicious and forbidden. _Damian (who rarely left Daire's side) looked at it with curiosity. Daire held the circular lump in her hand. Neither child had seen or heard of a cookie before. "Go on," her father pressed, "eat it. Here, I have one for you, too, Damian." Damian took the foreign object, looking up at Daire. She sniffed it, so he did the same. She licked it, so he did the same. Their eyes widened, and they engulfed the yummy treat._

But that wasn't the embarrassing part. The embarrassing part was soon after her father left. _The two toddlers wanted more of the tasty food, and went to the kitchen. Together, the young duo searched the kitchen top to bottom, moving and climbing around and up whatever they could. Nothing. Daire never said how, but they somehow came across a recipe. Decent at reading, Daire gathered and measured out what they needed. Damian, who was just learning to read, wanted to help. But he didn't know what most of the words said, let alone meant. And their measurements weren't exactly to scale. One cup of flour? Okay, Daire grabbed one of the glasses from the cupboard and filled it up, dumping the white powder in a pot. But Damian had added his own ingredients. The cookie had been sweet. Flowers smelled sweet. The cookies had a tinge of pink (probably from food coloring), and there were pink flowers in the garden. So they needed flowers, right? While Daire was busy, he ran out. The gardens weren't too far, and he knew his way around, so he was back in ten minutes. Where'd he go, he was asked? Proudly, he held up his prize. Daire smiled with a nod. "Good thinking. Put those in, I'm almost done. Just one more thing."_

Needless to say, the results they got weren't cookies. And they did get in trouble.

"Tt, you went with it," he muttered, his cheeks a light pink.

His comment made her blush, too. "I was five!"

"And I was three!"

Daire bit her lip, having no comeback.

But Damian did. "And if you tell them that, I'll tell them of you learning to drive."

"The wall wasn't there before!" she insisted.

"It was, too!"

"Was not!"

"Walls don't move!"

"That one did!"

"I don't entirely know what's going on," they heard Jason say to Dick and Tim, "but this is the best show I've ever seen."

Tim nodded. "Gold."

"Stay out of this!" Daire screeched.

"You're the ones making a scene," Bruce reminded. It hit Damian: they were still playing dress up.

Both children tutted, "Tt," and returned to their disagreement.

They dropped the cryptic language changes, staying in English and giving vague prompts. The went through childhood moments, increasing getting more and more frustrated with the other.

The others watched the exchange, wondering if this was the alleged fighting they heard siblings had. Little did they know. . .

Then Damian made a threat he didn't mean. They both knew he didn't mean it, but the words flew out before he thought twice about his poor choice. "Then I'll tell them about your father."

Daire froze, her annoyed tick going back. She wasn't relaxed, but her features went dark. "That was low."

Damian knew he crossed a line, but he was in the lead. He stood tall and didn't back down, staring back at her. There was no sound, just the two siblings glaring at each other, waiting for the other to do something, standing just inches apart.

Unexpectedly, Daire stroked first, throwing her entire body into her punch. Damian took the blunt it, not having enough time to dodge or react. But he quickly recovered, bending his knee and sending one leg out. Daire's knees buckled, but she managed to direct her fall toward Damian.

With a thud, they hit the floor. Damian let out a grunt, the combined weight of him and his older sister landing flat on his back taking the breath out of him. They struggled, using skills to get the upper hand, occasionally going with blind instinct to pound at the other. Though typically gentle with the other, now something flowed through their veins, and they held nothing back.

Damian rolled them over, elbowing Daire at the base of her ribs. She gritted her teeth, pushing his arm away. Damian straddled her waist, his hands locking on her wrists and pinning them by her head. He was strong enough to keep her arms pinned.

But this is where their training made things bitter. Daire pushed one leg deeper into the carpeted floor, swinging her other leg up. First try, she hit Damian's back. Second try, she kneed the back of his head. He leaned forward, but Daire planted both feet firmly on the floor, thrusting her hips up. Damian, his weight on his hands, flew forward. To stop himself from face- planting, he moved his hands to catch his fall.

Arms now free, Daire pushed and rolled before Damian got his balance back. His body easily went with the force of the push, not prepared for the redirection.

The brother and sister rolled around on the floor, growling and pulling hair and cursing worse than Jason. The eventually made their way to their feet, backing up a few feet for the space needed to do so without worry.

Hands clenched into fists, teeth showing, eyes focused, ready to pounce or block. Testing the waters, Damian jerked forward, not really moving. Daire, in response, flinched, going to block an imaginary blow. She realized the trick and returned to her weary stance before creating an opening.

Damian jerked again, but Daire had less of a response.

"Enough!" Bruce roared, stepping in between them. His arms hovered at his sides, ready to stop them if they leapt forward. "This is getting ridiculous!"

"And it didn't when you first dressed like a giant bat?" Daire spat.

"Stay out of this, Father."

"You two need to calm down. I don't know what's going on but you need-" Bruce didn't get to finish.

"Hmph!" they both huffed, stomping off in opposite directions.

"What just happened?" Tim asked.

"I don't know," Dick answered honestly.

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

Left on their own to cool off, they met in front of their bedroom doors an hour and a half later.

"Damian."

"Daire."

Damian knew he was the one who crossed the line, but he didn't want to be the one to back down. He would, but he didn't want to.

"Do you regret it?" Daire questioned.

Damian relaxed. She was giving him the easy way out. "Yes."

She relaxed, too. "Apology accepted. You're forgiven. Am I?" She held out her hand, offering an official truce.

Damian obliged. "Forgiven."

Twenty minutes later, when everyone decided the duo had enough time to cool down, they searched for the siblings, finding them in the game room.

"Is everything alright?" Bruce asked when Daire jumped back from the game, cheering.

"Yeah," she replied, having heard them enter the room. "Why wouldn't it be?"

* * *

 **AN: legit this is how some of my fights went with my brother and sisters. Ah, siblings. Gotta love them. XD**


	19. Chapter 17: The Day Out

**~ The Day Out ~**

As if yesterday's dress up fiasco wasn't enough family time, Dick insisted they go around town and spend the day together.

"It'll be fun."

"Tt, I wasn't raised to do 'fun.' Neither was Daire."

"You were also raised to kill, do you still do that, Master Damian?"

Damian sent Alfred a glare but didn't answer.

Bruce caved, "Fine, Dick. What do you suggest we do?"

Dick's smile lit up the room. He listed a park Bruce took him to a few times as a child, the cinema, an ice cream parlor he's been wanting to try, and a carnival in Gotham for the week.

"Sounds delightful, Master Dick," assured Alfred.

"Glad you think so, Alfie, 'cause you're coming along."

His eyebrows raised. "I'm afraid I have many things around the mansion to-"

"Of course you're coming, Alfred," Bruce answered. "You're part of the family, too, and you deserve the day off."

"As you wish, sir."

"Yes, taking the day goofing off with us is such a chore," Daire dragged, unable to hide the slight smile on her face. Ra's Al Ghul wasn't big on family outings (unless you counted working/ bloody vacations) and she looked forward to spend the day with her new family.

Once again, she smiled at the thought. She no longer distanced herself from the Wayne family. Bruce had made it clear that she was as welcomed as anyone else. As long as she wanted, she'd be apart of the family. A real family.

"I'll drive," volunteered Damian.

"No."

"I know how."

"No."

"I'll drive then," Daire offered.

"No."

"I know how."

"No."

"I'm thirteen!"

"Neither one of you are driving. That's final."

""Neither one?" So both of us, together? We hadn't done that before, but I guess-"

"Daire."

"I'm kidding. Kind of. Not really." She leaned forward. "Why can't we drive? We know how, and we're both better than over half the morons on the road."

"You're not driving, end of discussion."

"As interesting as this is, when does our day of fun start?" Jason questioned.

"After breakfast?" Dick suggested.

Bruce nodded, continuing to eat.

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

"This is ridiculous," Damian huffed, arms folded across his chest, eyes closed in annoyance.

"Come on, Dami. It'll be fun!"

"We weren't raised to have fun."

"No, but do you see us killing anybody?"

His eyes opened, and his head turned back to face Daire. He didn't have a response to that. He faced forward again, looking down the slide he was about to go down. Daire sat behind him, legs to either side of his and making the small space more cramped. Her arms wrapped gently around his waist, her body leaning into his.

"Ready?"

He sighed, "Fine," and scooted forward.

The ride was short and no where near thrilling. He had expected more but didn't dare voice it. At the bottom of the slide, he promptly stood, breaking free of his sister's hold and tutted.

"Hmm, wasn't as fun as I thought it'd be," Daire admitted.

"I told you it was a waste of time."

"And I told you killing was wrong." She shrugged nonchalantly. "Sometimes I'm right, other times I learn."

Damian rolled his eyes. "Yes, because the great Daire Al Ghul never loses."

"Only as often as the great Damian Al Ghul is modest."

"What?" Jason snickered, amused.

"What's next to do today?" Damian asked, purposely changing the topic.

"You make it sound like a chore."

"We've only been here for, like, ten minutes. The movie starts in two hours, so we'll be here a while."

Most of the group sighed.

"What do you suggest we do, then?"

"I have an idea."

Giving Jason an opportunity to pick what they did was a mistake. A big mistake.

From the playground, leaning his waist on the railing, he laughed. "Ha! Ha! Ha! Run from my wrath of terror, peasants!"

"This isn't exactly what I had in mind," Dick admitted, diving being a slide on the other side of the playground. Little plastic balls of brightly colored pain zoomed by. Jason's bb gun seemed to have an endless supply of ammo. When did he even sneak the thing passed Bruce and Alfred? How did he sneak it passed them?

Sitting safely to the side, Alfred enjoyed the sun shimmering through the clouds. It wasn't much, but what little reach his skin felt warm. Bruce sat beside him, his thumbs tapping away at his phone. Their family fun day would have to take a pause around two, after the movie. He had a meeting he needed to attend. He dreaded the idea of having his kids wait at the office while it took place. As talented and heroic as they were, they were also troublesome brats. Their intelligence, combat skills, and agility only made things worse.

"Ow! Bruce!" Dick cried.

Bruce didn't even look up from his phone. "Jason, tone it down."

"Like they haven't dealt with worse. Every one of us has been shot with a real gun."

"Jason." This time, blue orbs momentarily darted up, his voice warning.

Though his second oldest son missed stare, he got the message. "Fine."

His kids ran around the playground. Damian somehow got close enough to snatch the gun from Jason, then he terrorized his brothers and sister. The gun bounced around. Bruce took the relief in knowing no other kids were there. He knew his children could take the punch, but other parents might not be so forgiving.

When Tim had the gun, he took very few shots. He wasn't used to the weight of it in his hands, unlike his other children. The shots he did take, however, were effective.

Dick focused on warning shots, trying not to hurt his brothers and sister. He had been in the vigilante business long enough to know how to shoot, but guns were used so sparingly as a Bat that it was still foreign.

Jason and Damian didn't seem to care. They mercilessly shot their siblings as many times as they could manage while holding the gun.

Daire was in between. She remembered how she was treated and dealt with her brothers accordingly. She mirrored their tactics. Jason never stood a chance; Damian was hit sparingly until he lost his temper fifteen minutes into the game; Dick and Tim got a few warning shots and some ricochets.

Where they got so many bbs to keep reloading the gun, Bruce might never know. Jason was fair with reloading, handing over the ammo when necessary- except for Damian. Then he stole the gun, laughing methodically.

By the end of the two hours, all his kids sports rosy cheeks and huffing chests. They all had tiny bruises starting to form from their rougher times of play. Tim even had the beginnings of a black-eye from where he and Jason got competitive. Damian probably had a bruised back from Jason as well, though the boy didn't act like he felt any pain.

"You boys- and girl- ready?" Bruce questioned, tucking away his phone.

He received a series of yeahs and a yes. He motioned his kids to start heading to the car, snatching the bb gun as Jason passed him.

"Hey!"

They headed straight for the cinema. Dick and Jason went overboard on snacks, but it's not like money's an issue for them.

The action movie kept the entire family entertained. Eyes glued to the screen, they soaked in every bit they could. At a few scenes, he'd hear a snicker. An object suddenly moved or vanished in the middle of a scene, making it obvious of the different takes they did.

Despite having protested at the sugary substances, Damian enjoyed his soda and candy, finishing quickly. He stole some of Dick's, trying to stay unnoticed. Bruce saw, Dick noticed and smiled at his brother's antics, neither said anything.

At the end of the movie, Dick and Jason were the first ones out of their seats. They somehow convinced the others to play a game of tag, running around the theater as the credits rolled. They stayed out of the way of the few other viewers, so Bruce let them get some of their energy out. Maybe if they ran around now, they'd sit still during his meeting.

He knew it was a long shot.

They had time for a quick lunch. Jason insisted on going to a fast food place, much to Alfred's distaste.

After lunch, they headed to Wayne Enterprises. Bruce left them in his office as he went a few doors down to the board meeting. He hated these things. He hated them so much. They were so boring.

Knowing his mischievous children were in the other room didn't help. Tim and Damian would normally just find and fix a few problems in the system, but Dick and Jason were incredibly convincing today. Daire didn't seem like a trouble maker, but she was easily convinced by Dick.

It was later than expected, but he heard the sounds of chaos nonetheless.

First came the shouts and screams. They weren't from his kids, but the voices sounded like they were scolding someone. Then something crashed, knocking something else over in the process. Seconds later, the fire alarms beeped. What did they do this time?

"Put it out!" one of his kids cried.

"Why'd you start the fire in the first place?"

He sighed, dreading what was to come.

All eyes turned to him. "Bruce?"

"One minute, please." He exited the boardroom in a haste, finding his rambunctious children with ease. "What. The. Hell?"

He didn't know how they caused so much chaos. He was thankful they took their schemes out of his office. Ms. Bannister wasn't so fortunate, but she annoyed the ever-living daylights out of him and Lucius. Nonetheless, she was bound to give him an earful.

Tim laid sprawled out on the floor, face planted into the carpet. Bruce was unsure of his consciousness. Ms. Bannister's filing cabinets piled over each other on the floor, puking up documents. The single bookshelf toppled forward, a few books and pages sticking out. They must have fell off before the bookshelf met the ground. Her desk was the ultimate nightmare. Her computer screen swung off the side of her desk, hung by its wire. The wire strained under the monitors weight, and he wasn't sure how long it would hold. Papers littered the floor, a handful surrounding Tim. Small streams of smoke raised out of the trash, but he didn't see any flames. The fire extinguisher rolled idly nearby, looking already used. White foam sprinkled the area, thinker in some places.

Daire hung from the ceiling fan, wrapped in electrical cords. How the fan didn't collapse with her hanging off it, he didn't know. Daire looked genuinely surprised to see him, her tied form slowly spinning. A scarf wrapped itself around her head, filling her mouth. Whoever tied her up placed duck-tape over that to keep her silenced. Still, Bruce heard her attempt to speak. He didn't understand a word she said, but she certainly wasn't pleased with the situation.

Bruce walked over, stepping over Tim. He ripped off the duck tape, and Daire quickly forced the scarf out of her mouth. It fell down- or up- her face, covering her nose and eyes, moving at glacier speed. Bruce took it the rest of the way off.

"What-"

"You have to help Dami! Or Jay! Or Dick. Or all three of them. But especially Dami!" She jerked around, trying to find a way out of the cords. The ceiling fan creaked, starting to come out of place. Her eyes widened. "After you let me down. Please."

"And Tim-?"

"He fine, I think. He fell asleep going through the stocks or something with Dami."

"Where's Alfred?"

"In your office. He said he didn't want to be a part of whatever shenanigans Jason and Dick had planned."

"And?" She had more to say, he knew. She just needed some prompting.

"He also said he wanted peace and quiet, so Dick made us leave."

She left out a big chunk of the story, something important. If Bruce hadn't heard another series of crashes, he'd have pressed for more. Instead, he quickly got Daire down and took off to find the rest of his soon-to-be-grounded children.

"Aren't you going to untie me?" Daire called after him.


	20. Chapter 18: The Children

**~ The Children ~**

Needless to say, all the Wayne children were in the red zone at after the trip to the office. They received an earful from Batman (not Bruce) and then high tailed it away. Dick returned to Bloodhaven, Tim to the Titans, and Red Hood to wherever. Daire and Damian, however, were stuck.

They were stuck inside, not allowed out much after the office incident (and they were doing their best not to bring it up. . . Things went South fast). But Bruce knew Jason was mainly to blame, so he tried to keep their punishment light.

Of course, with them sneaking off every other minute (an over exaggeration but it sometimes felt appropriate), they were making things difficult, hanging off of his last nerve.

The light atmosphere that had surrounded the Wayne Family the past few weeks had long since vanished. Any traces of it ever being there smashed with stoic glares and chipped tones.

Daire, who had started opening up to Bruce, retreated to her quiet self. She could always be found where Damian was, silent and blending with the background. Bruce wanted things to go back. He had liked the easy way things had settled, but he didn't know how to get it back. The children under his wing were more rebellious than ever, clashing with their new way of life. Daire wasn't so much the problem as Damian, but no matter what the boy did, she sided with him.

And, of course, the stunt they just pulled wasn't helping the situation.

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

A young duo sat wordlessly in the speeding Batmobile. The youngest drove expertly on the snowy road, barely glancing at the green sign reading, ' _Welcome to Ichabod.'_

" _I have half a mind to report you two for grand theft auto._ "

Two small figures jumped out of the parked vehicle, standing eerily in the fog.

Damian scoffed, smirking. "I'd like to hear that call. "Hello, police? My son and adopted daughter stole the Batmobile.""

" _You find this amusing?_ "

"Very," Sparrow replied, trying not to laugh over the com.

"A little. I called and told you to meet us up here, didn't I?

" _But what does a town that was wiped out by floods have to do with the children that have gone missing in Gotham?_ "

Robin and Sparrow inched forward, keeping out of sight. A big sign over an abandoned factory let them know of their location: _Schott's Toys._

"Maybe nothing," Robin admitted. "But we found it a little odd that every one of them owned toys made here." They darted forward.

" _You could have shared the information a little sooner_."

"An alternate response might be, "Good work, Robin." But I guess I expect too much."

" _I'm still a mile out. Don't do anything till I get there._ "

"Word of honor, I won't do anything."

They climbed in through a window.

They pulled out flashlights to see better, but everything stayed dark and quiet. They walked along the empty aisles, seeing rats and old dolls littering the shelves and path.

Sparrow elbowed Robin, her light pointing at a young girl's blue shoe. Their theory was correct.

" _Remember, Robin. Justice-_ "

Robin sighed but finished, "Not vengeance."

The original owner of this place was a man named Winslow Schott," Robin informed, leading Sparrow deeper into the warehouse.

"A psychopathic killer," she murmured, her stomach twisting. No. Now wasn't the time to be squeamish. Who knew what was happening to these children? It might have been a long time before someone saved her- and too late- but she could help these children. She could save them from sharing her cursed fate.

"Sent to prison twelve years ago," Batman continued, "by the testimony of his son and primary victim, Anton. The son eventually took over the business- did a damn good job of it until the floods came."

They stopped at a table covered in blood. What looked to be fingers lay in the puddles. The young duos stomach twisted in revolution.

"Hardly major news," Robin noted. Batman knew an awful lot about this place. Two limp legs lay at the edge of the cage. One foot missed a shoe. The other matched the shoe they saw earlier. "How do you-?" He stopped, small gaps and tiny hands trying to peer at their savior. These children... This monster locked them in cages. They were small, skinny, eyes wide with fear. Many recognized Robin, and hope flooded them. "Oh, right. Your specialty. Victimized children." His flashlight moved down the aisle, hearing footsteps. He narrowed his eyes, squinting. Sparrow stood frozen in shock, her body tense and shaking. Her widened eyes stared at the traumatized children.

A deep, echoing voice called out,"You're worried about the little ones?" A switch sounded, and the duo turned around. A large, bulky man stood, his features hidden by shadows.

The children scurried away from the bars.

The man dropped his bucket, more light shining on him. He wore a yellow and black striped shirt, tangy overalls, and a cracked mask. He appeared neither happy nor eager. An aura of sadness surrounded him, his voice dull and empty. "Don't be. You see, I love them more than you could ever know." He tilted his head, his neck cracked.

"Schott?"

The man walked forward. "Anton Schott died when he was a little boy. When the monster took away his innocence. I'm not Anton. I am the Dollmaker." He stopped at a chain and pulled it. And I've done everything in my power to help the little ones survive in this sad, cruel world."

Doors opened, and dozens of crooked children dated out, backs hunched. They remained close to the floor, circling the intruders and their creator. They each wore a mask similar to the Dollmaker's. Their backs bore shaggy rags and hisses escaped their unseen lips.

Sparrow stepped back in horror.

Robin stepped forward in anger.

"Psychopath! You'll pay for this!"

"Protect me, children, as I've protected you."

Robin and Sparrow got to work, obviously holding back against the kidnapped children. Sparrow only blocked their advances. Robin retaliated with a few blows, but made sure not to hurt them more than necessary.

One doll child blocked Robin's path, hands cut off. Round blades roared to life, where the hands should've been. The doll child leapt forward, backing Robin to a wooden crate. Robin dodged the deadly blows, catching each arm to restrain the doll child. He head butted the creep back.

An explosion in the ceiling had beams crashing around. The doll children flipped out of harms way, gathering around the Dollmaker.

Batman dove in through the hole he made, landing beside Robin and Sparrow.

"I can take care of myself," Robin spat.

"An alternate response might be, "Thanks, Batman." But I guess I expect too much." Robin glared at the jab, keeping his eyes locked on the Dollmaker. Sparrow couldn't help the quick snort, latching onto the Dark Knight's cape.

Odd. She usually kept her distance from him. And while she wasn't opposed to physical contact (i.e. hugs) like Damian, but she didn't take the initiative. She pressed herself lightly into his side, and Batman knew this struck a little close to home for her.

The doll children attacked. Sparrow's anxiety didn't seem to hinder her fighting abilities. She released the Dark Knight, blocking every blow with the precision drilled into her at an early age.

Batman fought similarly to Robin, striking back but doing his best not to further injure the children.

The Dollmaker and Robin made eye contact, before the monster made his retreat. Robin chased after him.

"Robin, no!" Batman called. Sparrow ran past him, leaving him to fight the children alone. "Sparrow!"

He couldn't follow. He disabled the doll children with knock out gas, leaving limp bodies on the ground.

The trapped children in the cages coughed, far enough away from the smoke to stay awake. It took two strikes, but Batman's bat-a-rang broke the chains locking them in.

He knelt down in front of them, holding his hand out. "You're safe now. I swear to you." The children ran into his arms, desperately needing the reassurance. Batman gave them it. " You're safe."

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

Dollmaker sprinted through the forest as fast as his stout figure allowed him. Through the mask hiding his features, puffs of air could be seen. He wasn't quiet, crunching the snow with each step.

"There are dying children in those cages back there!" Robin's dark voice echoed. Dollmaker looked around, his breathing heavy, but couldn't see his pursuers.

"Some had to sacrifice so that the others could live," he explained.

A pissed vigilante knocked him over, swinging from the snowy pine trees behind him.

"Shut up."

"As children they're helpless, but as dolls- as dolls no one can ever hurt them again. No one can," Dollmaker continued.

"You want to know about helplessness? Let me teach you."

Dollmaker tried to run away, to be able to save more children in his own disturbed way. Sparrow didn't let him, swinging a bat-a-rang with rope around his legs and tripping him. She froze, her heart pounding in her chest. Robin took over and dragged him back despite the size and weight difference.

"Why won't you listen? Why won't you understand? I love them. I love them. I-"

Robin had enough, pinning the older man, then holding up his torso. A bat-a-rang in hand, he growled in the older man's face. "Shut up, damn you, or I'll tear your heart out. Do you hear me? I'll tear it out!" He stared right into the Dollmaker's terrified eyes. He wanted to kill him. He really did.

 _Crunch!_

A light foot stepped forward. He heard his sister's shaking breaths.

Robin shoved him down, throwing the bat-a-rang with all his might.

It plunged into the snow beside Dollmaker's head.

Robin walked away.

"Justice, not vengeance. Justice, not vengeance," he chanted, stopping when he heard skin being sliced and chocking sounds.

He spun around, making sure his sister was alright. Luckily, she wasn't hurt. She stood a few feet away, completely still. Her features were blank, making it impossible to tell what she was feeling.

Dollmaker stood as still as a statue, his arm raised, a thick branch raised above his head, ready to be used as a club. Blood from the children he terrorized and murdered stained his clothes.

Suddenly Dollmaker's frame fell, revealing a masked owl-like creature standing, the heart still beating in his hand.

"Don't doubt your instincts."

The mystery murderer flipped back, vanishing in the trees. Damian and Sparrow stared in the direction he went in, wondering who he was. They shared a question look. What happened? I mean, they both knew, but what? Who was this person? What did he want? How did he know where to find them? Where did he go?

Batman came up behind them, taking in the gruesome scene. He felt appalled. He couldn't believe this- but he could. He believed he could change his son, but maybe he was too late.

"What have you done?" he growled. "What have you done?" Robin and Sparrow spun around. It was obvious who killed him. Robin had a habit of taking all his pent up anger out on criminals. Sparrow only did as much harm as necessary. And Robin had been leaning back toward his Grandfather's ways.

"You think that I-?"

"After all these months together- all I've taught you- you revert to the assassin your grandfather wanted you to be." He turned to Sparrow. "And you let him?"

Sparrow blinked, shocked. He really believed they would regress? He was so quick in assuming the worse. Did he ever believe in them? Or was he just waiting for them to fail to throw it back in their faces? Her heart skipped a beat. Did he really think they were monsters?

Robin glared. "I could have done it easily, but I didn't. Out of respect for you. And keep Sparrow out of this. What I do is entirely on me." His glare deepened. "And don't you _ever_ accuse her of something like that again. _Ever_."

Okay, Batman really struck a nerve there. Robin and Sparrow were so taken back by the accusation, he believed them. But if they weren't the culprits, who was?

Sirens could be heard in the distance.

"State police are here. There are more on the way. Who did it?" The question came out gentler, but Robin was already mad.

"Figure it out for yourself," Robin spat. He spun on his heels, taking his own way home.

"Robin."

Even through the mask, Batman could sense Daire's hurt. This would dampen their budding relationship. The betrayal sprawled across the girl's face portrayed exactly what she felt. He didn't trust them; he didn't believe in them.

"Sparrow," he whispered.

She turned, running off after her brother.

Studying the body, Batman noticed a feather partly under the Filmmaker.

They told the truth. It wasn't them.

But that brought up a whole new set of questions. And possibilities he had long since dismissed.


	21. Chapter 19: The Girl's Past

**Warning: this part mentions childhood sexual, physical, and emotional abuse. I tried not to go too far into details.**

 **~ The Girl's Past ~**

There was something off with Daire, Bruce knew. She was quiet, withdrawn, and lost in her own world. Her body tensed, eyes glistening over with fear. She jumped at the slightest of sounds, even keeping her distance from her brother.

Speaking of whom, was doing nothing to comfort his sister!

Bruce knew Damian sensed the changes. Damian let a rare glimpse of sorrow seep into his expression when Daire wasn't looking, but he kept silent. Bruce knew Damian knew enough about his sister to rationalize this behavior, but Bruce knew next to nothing about what happened to the young duo while in Talia's care.

Sure, he had pretty good ideas. They had been forced to train daily, if their habits, skills, and techniques were anything to go by. Perfection was demanded from them, if their eagerness to please and care for precision were anything to go by. They had been raised to lead and rule, taught and drilled of their so-called god-like status, if their egos were anything to go by. Failure was not treated lightly, if their scarred bodies were anything to go by. But they also weren't given enough love and kindness, if their snobbish but (not subtle) attention seeking attitudes were anything to go by.

But Bruce didn't ask for details, and neither child offered any. Both were known to clam up, the theory being they didn't want to disappoint Bruce by reminding him of their high body count.

Little did they know Bruce didn't blame them for that. He blamed Talia and Ra's, but not the two innocent children trying to survive their harsh upbringing. If he paid closer attention to emotions (both his own and others) he might've sat his two youngest down and have the heart- to- heart. But he didn't.

Another reason was because he didn't really want to know. He didn't want to know what all they had been through. He didn't want them to dwell on the past as he did (and still does, if he's being honest). If they needed to talk, they'd probably go to Alfred or Dick. If things got too intense or if Alfred or Dick thought something alarming, he'd call in Black Canary to talk to them. Though, he'd rather avoid that conflict if he could. Each and every one of his sons were as stubborn as he was. Arguing with any one of them would be like talking to a brick wall: impossible. And he didn't know Daire well enough to judge her resistance, but she was known to be stubborn, too.

Still, if Daire didn't ease or open up soon, Canary would probably get involved. Even if it was only Daire to receive counseling, Damian would raise Hell. The duo were extremely protective of each other, even if the younger had strange ways of showing it.

Bruce sighed, seeing Damian curled outside of Daire's room. Her door was probably locked, but Bruce kept a key on the top of the doorway. He could get in if he needed to.

"Cute, isn't he?"

Bruce didn't answer.

Dick sighed, moving passed Bruce to scoop Damian into his arms. As he knelt down, a scream shot through the still night.

Damian shot up, narrowly missing Dick's chin with his own head. He jumped to his feet, hurrying to the door. The handle shook but didn't turn.

"Daire? Daire?" the startled boy called, pounding on the door.

Bruce ran his fingers along the top of the door frame, bumping the key he kept. He hastily unlocked the door, barely finding time to crack it open before his son zoomed passed him, flinging the door open.

"Daire! Daire!" Damian leapt onto his sister's bed as Jason and Alfred gathered around the door.

"What happened?" Jason yelled over the piercing screams.

"Daire! It's alright! He's not here! You're safe! You're safe, Daire. You're safe," Bruce's youngest cooed, his tone stricter than it probably should have been.

The screams died down as Tim rushed up from the Batcave, still dressed as Red Robin.

Damian ran his fingers awkwardly through Daire's hair as she whimpered. Her head tossed side to side, her forehead glistening with sweat. Her features contorted up in pain, her teeth grinding together.

"Daire, wake up. Daire," Damian called, gently shaking her with his free hand. "Daire." He said something in Arabic, a quiet whisper even Bruce couldn't pick up.

Much like Damian had minutes before, Daire's eyes flew open, her body shooting up in a sitting position. Damian had been careful not to lean over her, likely having gone through this before. Their heads didn't collide.

Daire's breathing quick and unsteady, her eyes scanned for any sign of immediate danger. Her eyes caught Damian's for a moment, falling onto the worried family at her bedroom door.

"I- I-" she started. Her eyes drew downcast, gaze falling onto her lap. Her shaking hands clenched at the sheets covering her legs, hair dropping to hide her tears. "I'm sorry."

The words came out as a whisper, but were drenched with pain.

"I'm sorry."

Slightly louder now, how thin frame shook. Damian seemed at a lost, glancing to his father then to Dick. Grayson was good with emotions and gush, maybe he knew what to do? Grayson was frozen, eyes locked onto their sister.

"I'm sorry."

Louder, still, her voice became muffled by her rising knees. She ducked her head in them, hiding her face.

"I'm so sorry!"

A sob shook the bed, snapping Damian's attention back to Daire. A helpless hand hung in the air, a few inches from her shoulder.

"I'm so sorry!"

Her sobs- no longer contained- filled the otherwise silent room.

Damian knew what she felt sorry for. He didn't understand it, either.

"What are you sorry for?" he snapped, leaping to his feet.

Daire dared a glance up, not surprised by the sudden outburst. Her head fell back down. "Everything!"

Little hands clenched into pale fists, arms shaking at the strength behind them. "It wasn't your fault! None of that was your fault! You were just a child!"

"I was weak! I should've been stronger; I should've fought him!"

"You were six; and he was a grown man. There wasn't anything you could do!" This wasn't fair! Surely Daire knew the abuse wasn't her fault. How did she always manage to place the blame upon herself? It's illogical!

"But I should've-"

"You COULDN'T!" Damian cut off, leaning forward. One knee on the bed, hands on his sister's shoulders. One of his arms extended further than the other, but he ignored the awkwardness. "You were six, sister." He shook her slightly in emphases. "Six!" Timidly, her eyes rose to meet his. "There was nothing you could do, and you did fight. It was in no way your fault; the blame is all your father's."

"But I should've done something. Anything!"

Her protests weaker, Damian's voice grew softer. "You did all you could. There wasn't anyway you could have stopped him. You did all you could." He lowered his arms, letting his hands rub gently down her arms, continuing until he interlocked their fingers. "And you are so brave."

Daire let out another sob. Damian had been through this before, but he was never good at this kind of thing. He turned to the one person in the family who was.

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

"Grayson," he murmured, eyes shimmering. He needed help. He couldn't do this alone. Neither of them could.

On cue, Dick stepped forward. He wormed his way into the bed, between the young siblings, holding them close to either side. He felt Daire stiffen, but holding Damian's hand gave her the strength she needed to let go.

"I'm sorry!" she wept, pushing her face into Dick.

Damian's worried gaze locked his, his expression helpless. Dick held them both tighter, closer to him.

"It's alright," Dick promised. "You're alright. I'm sorry you had to go through that." The duo hadn't outright admitted much, but he wasn't stupid. Everyone there could put the pieces together, especially now. "I'm sorry. You didn't deserve that." A pause, Grayson figuring out what to say next. "You are so brave, so strong."

"B- But I-"

"-Did all you could. And you know what?" He pulled her back, looking into tear stained face. Clumps of soaked hair clung in odd patterns, snot beginning to drip out of her nose. Her face was a light pink, her body heaving. He leaned his forehead gently against hers and whispered, "You're still living. You kept going. And you did so all by yourself. But you don't have to be alone. You're not alone. You have Damian, Bruce, and Alfred. You have Tim, Jason, and me.

"You don't have to hold it in, to put on a brave face. You have a family, and we'll do anything for you. We're here for you, all you have to do is let us in. All you have to do is love."

Daire buried her face back into Dick, his shirt wet and clingy from her tears. He didn't care. Dick ran a hand down her matted hair, kissing the top of her head.

She clung to Damian and Dick, her sob weakening until her breathing fell into an uneven, choppy pattern, her limp form slumping against Dick. Slowly, Dick released Damian and lowered Daire. He grabbed a tissue from Alfred and dotted her face to help clean it up. Not much, but something.

Damian leaned against the pillow, his eyes fighting to stay open and alert. But he was exhausted, the emotional scene draining every last drop of energy from his young body.

Dick carefully climbed out of the bed, helping Damian under the covers.

"Shh, shh," he soothed when the young warrior tried to sit up. "You need to stay here with Daire. Your sister needs you."

As expected, those words worked. Damian relaxed into the sheets, rolling his head to look at Daire.

"Goodnight, Dami." Dick pressed a gently kiss to Damian's clammy hairline, lulling him into sleep.

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

All was silent, save for light breathing. Jason's hands balled into fists, shaking in anger. He didn't want to believe it.

Gosh, some people are just sick! He saw shit like this on the streets. Growing up, there was nothing he could do. People were too careful, and a lot of times parents were too high or inebriated to care. The sickos preyed on children without support, those who couldn't get help and had to way out.

And Daire. Sweet Daire. No one deserves _that_ , but Daire- she really didn't. What was Talia thinking? How could a parent not know something like that was happening with their kid? And if they knew, how dare they call themselves parents?

Ugh! The whole thing filled Jason with curling tides of rage, nausea, and fury.

Before breaking something in the room and startling the sleeping figures, Jason stormed out of the room.

No one stopped him. A few doors down, he ran off, making sure his fit of rage wouldn't wake his youngest brother and sister.

He made it to the sitting room. Lots of valuable vases and short statues, lining along delicate tables

He knew Bruce might be mad at him and he'd probably have to help Alfred clean this shit up, but he still grabbed whatever he could. He hurled the objects at random, not watching the millions of pieces ran heavily onto the floor before hurling the next.

His family had followed at (at a slower pace but still). It wasn't long before Bruce pulled his arm back. The porcelain plate slipped in his grasp, falling unceremoniously onto the floor. It shattered, then an intense silence held the room.

Jason yanked his arm free. Bruce let him.

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

Tim watched Bruce and Jason. His stomach curled in on itself, and he felt like throwing up. He stood close to Dick, who sensed his brother's unease. Dick wrapped a comforting arm around Tim's shoulders.

Tim knew this stuff happened. But not to him. Not to his family and not to the people he knows. This kind of horror is what other people go through, nightmares other people lived.

He had his far share of nightmares. Fighting people like the Joker, Scarecrow, and Two Face did that to a person. Those were the nightmares he faced, the ones he lived.

He didn't know how to survive this. He couldn't fight it.

Tim watched Jason's body vibrate, his anger hitting Tim in waves. Dick held him closer- or maybe Tim leaned into Dick, Tim really didn't know.

His mind was racing, heart drumming in his chest. He wondered if Dick could hear it. It felt so loud.

The news wasn't a surprise. Tim had assumed something like that happened. So why was he frozen? Why did he feel so startled, unnerved, scared (though he'd never admit that last one out loud)?

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

All three boys stared at Bruce. Bruce always knew what to do.

Bruce lead them down to the Batcave. Jason needed to spare, to release some of the anger. Bruce needed it, too.

Dick and Tim were different, though some sparing might do them some good, too.

Bruce assigned them to different training stations. Best get the blunt fury curbed before sparing each other. Jason went to the punching bag, his grunts and roars echoing in the cave. Dick went to the trapeze set, flying and losing himself in the motions. Tim went to the simulator, diving right in. Bruce went to the weights, pushing himself too far but not far enough.

His mind raced. He couldn't believe Talia. She wasn't the best mother- he knew that- but what happened to Daire was too much. Talia kept a close eye on her children, so how had this slipped her notice? It couldn't have been a training thing. That would have been too far.

But he was right. What he predicted happened to Daire to make her uneasy around men was correct. For once, he wished he was wrong.


	22. Chapter 20: The Wayne Family

**~ The Wayne Family ~**

Jason would never admit it, Dick knew, smiling at his younger siblings. Hell, Tim wouldn't either. Damian and Bruce especially wouldn't. He could barely believe any of them had done this to begin with. This was- entirely- a once in a lifetime experience.

And that was why he had to take a picture.

Don't you understand? He HAD to.

Jason's form was scrunched over next to the bed, by Daire's slumbering form. Tim had dragged the chair over and fall asleep on the other side of the bed, his back arched awkwardly. His book closed and set aside, hand over Damian, as if reaching towards Daire. Daire had many nightmares over the night, so he probably helped soothed her through one, Dick concluded, smirking in awe.

This whole thing was just too darn cute!

And Bruce- Bruce just made this all the more urgent. Bruce, once sitting at the edge of the bed by his blood son, was now draped across the foot of the bed. A place only made possible by the duo's small frames in the large bed. His knees bent over the edge, letting his feet dangle and gently scruff the floor. One arm was thrown lazily above his head, his face was right next to Daire's feet.

Alfred dutifully passed the camera to Dick, a steady but small smile gracing his aged features.

Dick held it up, waited for it to focus, and captured the amazing sight.

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

In hindsight, not checking if the flash turned on or off was a grave mistake.

His family, the Bat family, full of light sleepers, woke at the sudden change in lighting, bolting in upright positions. Dick managed a slightly blurry but overall decent picture of all the sleepy heads sat upright, staring at him.

Of course, then they gathered their wits and bolted for him. He slipped the camera into Alfred's possession as he started to run, sliding the first camera out of his gloved hands.

Alfred made no move to indicate the switch, keeping his perfect posture as the rest of the family chased after Dick, scrambling over the bed and each other in the process.

Jason had hopped on the bed, walking over Daire and Damian. Tim and Bruce were halfway to the door, eyes twitching at the pound Jason made on the floor. He easily caught up to Tim, throwing the smaller boy into Bruce and slowing them both down. Jason rocketed passed, determined to get to Dick first.

"Dick!"

Bruce's firm hands went to Tim's shoulder, keeping him from stumbling over. He didn't wait to see if the boy was okay, though, leaving him at the doorway while shouting, "Jason! Dick!"

Damian, the small devil, darted passed a dazed Tim. "Grayson!"

Daire stayed in bed, alert but smiling softly. Her sparkling eyes drifted over the now empty spots her family had slept in. They had stayed with her throughout the night.

"Did you sleep well, Miss Daire?" Alfred asked, pleasantly.

Daire nodded. Alfred didn't hear, but he knew she whispered a quiet, "Yes," by lip reading.

He smiled in kind. The words, "I'm glad," came out in a light tone, his posture relaxing yet still formal. A moment passed, followed by a loud crashing clang and threatening shouts.

Daire giggled, eyes now at the door; Alfred sighed, glaring at the door.

"Alfred?" a whisper sounded.

His attention turned back to the girl. "Yes?"

Hesitantly, she held her arms out. "H- Hug?"

His eyes widened at the unusual question. The Bat family wasn't known for such direct and sentimental affections. But he relaxed once more, stepping forward to wrap the child in a warm hug.

"Of course."

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

If anyone guessed who was in charge of the Wayne household before, no one did now.

It was definitely Alfred.

Furious at the mess the boys of the family created, he yelled and scolded them for an hour, then made them clean the mess to his spotless standards. He refused to let Daire help, instead balancing his attention between the boys and keeping her happy. For someone of his age, he proved to be great at multitasking.

Bruce tried to get out of it the most. His main excuse: "I have a meeting at Wayne Enterprises."

The meeting started at nine; the family woke up at nine thirty. And Alfred's response was, "Like you attend those silly matters all the time, Master Bruce. Now get to work."

Okay, those weren't his exact words, but you get the picture.

Jason got smacked with a fly swatter when he tried to sneak out. And Alfred sent him an infamous Bat-glare when he found out, too. Alfred poured a gallon of cold water over Tim when he fell asleep. Dick got his music device taken away when he did more dancing then cleaning. Damian did nothing of the sort. Alfred showed up any time one of the others tried to sneak off or start a fight, so Damian begrudgingly did his work.

He wasn't going to be made into a bigger fool then he felt at the moment. And if his father couldn't get passed the butler, he doubt he could.

Or could he?

Worth a shot.

Damian waited for Dick, Jason, and Bruce to start bickering. Sure enough, Alfred soon appeared. He settled their quarrel and took off to make them some refreshments. A minute after Alfred left, Damian slipped out of the room. Of course, the blame of the previous fight flared a new fight, so his presence was unnoticed.

Not too close to be heard behind him but not too long as to be caught red handed.

His family was full of idiots.

He found his sister in the library, sitting at the chess table. Her book nor eyes moved as she greeted, "Hi, Dami."

"Tt, what nonsense are you reading now?" Daire was as schooled and educated about the world as he was, with a high reading level. Yet when given a choice, Daire went with frivolous fiction stories.

Finally, he had Daire's full attention. "It's not nonsense. It's actually really good."

"Shall we discuss over a game of chess, sister?"

"You just want to get out of cleaning." Damian neither confirmed or denied the accusation. "But fine-" her book snapped shut, "-but I'm first."

"Tt, whatever. I'll still beat you."

"Tt, no you won't."

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

Damian won.

By the time he was discovered, the young duo were immensely into the game. Daire pleaded to Alfred, wanting to finish the game. And Damian's lack of previous escape attempts did well to win him an early release, much to his brothers' dismay.

He smirked at their shocked expressions, knowing they only came to watch him get in trouble. If looks could kill, Jason would have ripped out Damian's intestines and strangled him with them. Tim looked like he could have shot Damian in the head, burned him, buried him, dug him back up, staked his heart with a wooden spear, then buried him again for good measure. Dick was edging between cooing at the cute brother- sister moment and being angry, not that Grayson's anger ever lasted. Bruce just sighed.

Unfortunately, the cleaning didn't last much longer. And Alfred demanded them to spend time together, especially after last night/ this morning.

"So, what are we going to do?" Jason wondered aloud, pulling out a gun and a cleaning rag.

Bruce, who was pacing while going over some reports, snatched the gun as he walked by.

"Hey!"

"No."

"I wasn't doing anything!"

"Still no."

"For fuck's sake, B. I was just cleaning it!"

"Jason, you know I-"

"" _Don't approve of guns,"_ " he mocked, flapping his hand in a jabbering motion. "Yeah, yeah. Heard it all before."

"Yet you keep bringing them into the manor," Tim mused, flipping a page in his book.

Jason sent him a deadpan expression; Tim didn't look up to see it.

"Tt," Damian tutted, annoyed at the pointless banter.

Smuggled stiffly in her brother's side, Daire released a small giggle. Damian peaked at her, unable to stop the slight smile. He still found the fight childish and stupid, yet if his sister was happy, he'd tolerate it. For how long? He didn't know. But he'd tolerate it for now.

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

"What?" Tim questioned Dick, an eyebrow raised.

He repeated, "We should have a family game/ movie day!"

"Why?" Jason ticked.

"Well, you're leaving tonight, and Tim's going back to the Titans tomorrow morning. It's our last night together as a family for who knows how long. I think we should spend it together."

"And I think you're an emotional lunatic," Jason shot back.

"I think it's a great idea, Master Dick," Alfred sided.

And with that, the Wayne Family Day began.

They started off doing typical family things, watching two movies and playing some board games. Alfred banned board games for the day after Jason lost and shot up the game (along with a table). He ushered them out of the house to reduce further mess making.

So they went to the Batcave.

The family that trains together stays alive, right?

Damian and Dick were the best to watch. They flipped and bounced around each other, passing off quick attacks. Dick, having grown out of his childhood slim figure, had taken a tactic similar to Bruce's, relying a bit more on strength than he did as a kid. Damian was strong for his age, but he only had so much strength. He relied on the weak spots of the body, knowing them all by heart. Dick still had his acrobatic grace, moving like leaves in the breeze. Still, his larger stature made it difficult to dodge some of Damian's quick attacks. But Damian hated losing. Each time he lost a battle, he was more determined to win the war, letting his emotions burn his technique away. Dick won, pinning Damian down with his larger frame.

Tim and Daire were nice to watch, too. Daire flipped around and made quick attacks much like Damian, years of training showing in her precise blows. She watched, quick to react and dodge. Tim, despite the late start, had trained hard, too. His quick, analytical brain helped, too. Their small figures demanded similar fighting techniques, and the exchanged series of quick blows, which the other did their best to block or dodge. Although they ran into several close calls, Daire gained the victory, flipping over Tim and hooking her arm around his neck. Her hands poised to brake the fragile supporter, she froze before delivering the fatal blow.

Bruce didn't appreciate the close call, even though Daire swore she wouldn't have carried through with the move. Keeping his dignity, Tim shook Daire's hand, congratulating her with the promise to win the next fight.

Jason, to the normal person, would be considered a bit scary. He let his anger fuel his fight. His overbearing muscle going into all of his attacks. Bruce, who had fought villains as strong as Superman, held his own against the brute strength. Jason had to dip a bit into his training as Robin to land a blow on him. Their strength leveled pretty well, demanding a more tactical fight than plain force. Of course, the more hits Bruce got in, the more anger Jason relied on. Not long after their fight started, Bruce won. It was the shortest fight of all.

They switched partners, careful to keep Jason from going against Tim. Although Jason had worked out many of his problems surrounding Tim (though the same could not be said about Bruce) no one wanted to chance sparking some forgotten resentment for the third Robin.

Next Dick suggested a Bat-a-rang throwing contest, which turned out to be rather pointless. They all had uncanny aim, hitting the center of the target every throw.

Damian was the only one to miss, his aim thrown off when Jason coughed, "Short stack!" mid- throw. It started another round between the boys, one that Bruce and Dick had to intervene before lethal force was used.

"I had fun," Damian admitted at the end of the day.

"Me, too," Daire agreed.

Jason, Tim, and Dick froze, eyes glued to Damian.

"What?" said boy snapped.

"Who are you, and what have you done with Damian?" Jason accused, hiding behind Tim. Tim rolled his eyes but was unable to move since Jason's large hands engulfed his shoulders.

"Tt, what are you going on about now, Todd?"

"You don't enjoy anything."

"I enjoy several things."

"Like what?"

"Not being around your fat ass, for one," Damian retaliated.

Dick laughed; Tim snickered. Daire's eyes widened, a hand flying up to cover her mouth.

"Damian," his father warned.

"No, no, B," Jason waved off. "I had that coming. I walked right into that one." He pushed Tim aside, walking straight up to Damian and wrapping him in a tight hug, lifting the child's feet off the floor.

"Wha-? Todd!"

"He's growing up so fast!" Jason jokingly cooed. "And he's so much like me!" He faked a few sniffles. "Our little baby bat is growing up, guys. It won't be long before he ends up like his father, with a million chil-"

Damian cut him off, finally freeing himself from his annoying brother's grasp and throwing him over his should, onto the cold, hard ground.

"Go die, Todd!" were Damian's last words before he marched back up to the manor.


	23. Chapter 21: The Date

**~ The Date ~**

"My God, Alfred, that was exquisite."

While the lady's attention was on Alfred, Bruce shot a warning glare to Daire, tilting his head slightly. The silent message- go away- was loud and clear.

"Every ingredient fresh and organic. Shipped in daily from a farm Master Bruce owns," Alfred, ever polite, boosted.

But the girl stayed, watching. At least she kept out of sight, but Bruce hadn't told his girlfriend about Damian and Daire yet.

"You cook, you clean, you run the household. I'm impressed," the beautiful lady complimented.

Bruce mouthed, "No patrol."

"You should have seen me in my days upon the stage, Miss Vanaver. My Falstaff was even better than my coq au vin."

With a inaudible but visible huff, she disappeared.

Alfred left, leaving Bruce and his date alone at the table.

"He's quite the character."

Bruce turned his attention back to his date, forcing a twinge of a smile. "When I was little, I was- Well, let's say I was a very serious child."

"Unlike the zany madcap you are now?" she lightly teased.

"Alfred's the only one who could ever get me to laugh," he admitted.

"After three months together, I like to think I can too." She looked down at her drink, fretting.

He walked over and assured her, "You can, Samantha. You do. That and so much more. There's something I want to show you." Her hand in his, he hurried down the hall, knowing exactly where he was going.

"Your bedroom, I'll bet," she suggested, hinting.

Despite the rumors, that wasn't all Bruce Wayne did with women. "It's still early. Come take a look at this."

Bruce lead her to a room filled with book shelves and books. A couple couches sat proudly in the middle, and a table stood several feet away. He guided Samantha over to the table, its contents hidden by a sheet.

"A new hobby?" she asked, curious.

He removed the sheet, revealing a model of what Gotham City could be. A cleaner, better, safer city.

"An old one, actually. The care and feeding of Gotham City." He removed the sheet, showing a model of Gotham City.

"Hm. That's one of the things that drew us together, wasn't it? The Waynes and the Vanavers have both spent generations trying to make this city great."

"My father had a saying: "Tomorrow is one dream away."  
Sentimental words, I know, but they stayed with me even after my parents were killed. Rather than focus on the demons, on the darkness, on all that's wrong with Gotham- something I've been guilty of for too many years- it's time to focus on how exceptional this city is." The model of Gotham City grew taller, grander, blue holograms showing all that was left to be built. "And how much better it can be- will be tomorrow. But before we can build it, we have to dream it. And luckily, I have the imagination and the capital to do both."

"And all they write about is the billionaire playboy." Samantha leaned against his strong build, admiration shining in her eyes. Bruce was so innocent and pure. He wanted what was best for Gotham. Yes, he'd surely join her in making their city a better place.

"Not to worry. He's here too."

They leaned in for a kiss, cut off by snores.

The unnoticed figure on the couch shifted, breathing out a groan. "Unh, I was reading. I must've fallen asleep. What's- What's going on?" Small hands rubbed at tired green eyes, then pushed him up to his feet.

Samantha walked over to the dazed boy, smiling brightly. "Oh, and who might this be?"

Now fully awake, he stood taller. "I'm Damian."

"Bruce's-?" she left the question open, waiting for Damian to answer.

The boy opened his mouth to proudly announce his heritage, but Bruce quickly intervened, "My ward. Well, he will be soon."

"That's twice you've surprised me tonight. Wait, is he the mystery kid all over the tabloids a while back?"

"Damian's had a difficult life, and I don't want those vultures in the press corps descending on him just yet. I've announced I'm taking him in, but I have yet to reveal much else. We've been," Bruce trailed, thinking.

"Keeping me a secret. Me and my sister." Damian spat enough distaste for the secrecy in his voice.

"Sister?"

"It took a while for me to get them both. I'm taking them both in."

"To keep the family together?" she awed.

Bruce nodded. "Exactly." He turned to Damian. "And you're only staying under the radar until the paperwork is finalized. Then we'll proudly announce the two newest additions to our family. I should have told you, Samantha, but-"

Samantha quickly assured, "No, there's nothing to apologize for. You've taken in this unfortunate child and his sister and given them a chance at a better life. You have to do it your way. I respect that."

Samantha's phone buzzed. She frowned at the screen. "Damn. Emergency board meeting." Bad timing.

"Is everything all right?" Bruce asked, worried.

"I'll tell them to reschedule."

"No. No, you should go," he dismissed. "We'll have other nights."

"I look forward to them." She leaned against him, gifting him a goodnight kiss. Bruce eagerly returned one in kind. She pulled back. "And I look forward to seeing more of you, Damian. I'll call you tomorrow." Samantha left, leaving the duo standing alone.

"You were awake the whole time, weren't you?" Bruce asked.

"Not the whole time," he admitted, a little smug. "She's very attractive. A hair pretentious. Definitely a little shallow, but-"

"What are you reading?" Bruce wondered, cutting him off and snatching the book away.

Damian glared at the book he was reading. "I've been working my way through Dickens." He waited for his father to say something, frowning when he received silence. "What did I do wrong now?"

"Nothing. Fact is, I tore through Dickens when I was just about your age," Bruce shared. He gave Damian back the book. "You ever see the 1948 movie version, directed by David Lean?"

"Ra's Al Ghul wasn't much of a movie buff."

"Well, I am." Bruce walked over to the intercom and held the button. "Alfred."

"Yes, sir?"

"Popcorn," Bruce ordered. "Drenched in butter. And open up the screening room."

"I'd reconsider the butter, sir. Terrible for the cholesterol."

"You know what, Alfred? Let's be daring tonight."

"As you wish, sir."

"We'll see if Daire wants to join in." Bruce started to leave, pausing when he noticed Damian's hesitation. "Coming?"

"Okay, but I'm not sharing. I want my own bowl."

"I think we can afford it."

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

Later that night, the Wayne Manor stood silently under the gleaming moon, tall and proud.

Suddenly, two short figures leapt down the side of the mansion: Robin and Sparrow. They ran across the yard, skidding to a stop when they reached a grid of blue lasers.

Sparrow studied it for a moment, then grind. She had just the tool. She pulled out a circular object from her utility belt, placing it next to the grid. The device whirled to life, jolting the grid. Robin then smashed a bat-a-rang to break the solidified lines.

They continued on, heading towards a brick wall. Robin stepped on a trigger, and flying disk shot pellets at them. Robin grunted, pulling him and his sister behind a tree for cover.

They jumped onto the wall, and jumped again when part of it fell down, hanging onto the metal spikes that shot out.

"That's a little better," Robin mused.

Before they could move, it sparked with electricity, zapping them. They fell back, landing near a ticked off Bruce.

"That's a lot better," they groaned in unison.

"You didn't really think I'd let you sneak out again?" Bruce ticked, shutting down the system.

Robin pushed himself to his feet, turning to his father. "You've got us under surveillance?"

Bruce didn't back down, his tone as stern as ever. "I thought we were making some progress."

"You show us a movie and that gives you permission to keep us a prisoner in our own house?"

Bruce knelt down. "It's for your own protection."

"Bad enough you won't let me out in public as Damian. The least you could do is let Robin and Sparrow have a life." Bruce snatched the hand Robin jabbed at him. With a grunt, he yanked his hand away.

"If you were a little more trustworthy, I would."

"You've never trusted me."

"Trust has to be earned, Damian. The same goes for you, Daire."

"That works both ways." Robin marched off, towing Sparrow behind him.

oOoOoOoOoOo

Damian walked into the Batcave; Bruce was working on something. He paused, as did Damian, silently signaling they knew of the other's presence, but otherwise did nothing out of the ordinary.

Damian made his way to the Batcomputer, unlocking it with his hand print.

"Accessing open file on Anton Schott a.k.a. Dollmaker. Dollmaker deceased," the computer reported. "Case closed."

"If that had been me dead in one of those cages, would you have killed him then?" Damian asked.

Bruce stopped, done with whatever he was working on for the moment. "We have to be better than our baser instincts."

"I'm sorry about sneaking out the other night."

"And the night before that?" Bruce pushed.

"Not so much," Damian admitted. But it was progress and honest, so Bruce accepted it. "We stopped the Dollmaker, didn't we? I was raised to be the ultimate soldier- a master assassin. Nothing out there can hurt me." Damian declared, matter-of-factly, walking towards his father.

"Underneath that hard shell, you're still just a boy." Bruce observed and scanned the feather he found with Dollmaker's body. It had only been a few days since the case, but Batman wasn't usually so behind. The Wayne family had been very busy.

"If that were true, you wouldn't be taking me out on the streets hunting psychopathic murderers."

"Those papers will be signed soon. Everything will be different then, you'll see."

"Where are you going?"

"Out." Bruce pulled the cowl over his head, becoming Batman.

"What about Daire and me?"

It was Bruce's turn to smirk. "I got you a sitter." He hopped in the Batmobile, zooming off before Damian could respond.

"I don't like the sound of that," Daire expressed upfront.

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

"You're sloppy," Nightwing commented, smug.

"No, I'm uninterested."

Sparrow sighed, logging out of the Batcomputer. The were either physically fighting or verbally. She couldn't get peace.

"Get interested," Nightwing ordered Robin. More clanking of weapons.

They exchanged more blows as Sparrow went to the changing quarters.

"I don't need to be trained by some circus clown. My grandfather taught me everything I need to know about personal combat."

"Well, I was trained by Bruce Wayne. And every time they met, he kicked Ra's al Ghul's ass. Just like I'm kicking yours." And from the sounds of the series of grunts Robin released, it was true.

Sparrow let out a quiet sigh, shaking her head.

"You really are a mass of ego, aren't you? The pure and perfect Dick Grayson. The first Robin." Nightwing stared at his old Robin costume, his reflection around the old mask. He quit being Robin to get away from this stuck-up crap. He didn't want it from Bruce, let alone his kid.

Nightwing swung them around, smashing Robin's face into the glass case. "Based on what I'm seeing, I was the only Robin." He didn't mean that. There was Jason and Tim. And he knew Damian could make a good Robin, but damn, that boy had a bigger ego than Batman. Dick didn't think that was possible.

Daire came out dressed in civvies at the peak of the fight. She watched with little interest.

"You're just some lost little orphan he took pity on. But I'm blood!" Robin managed to raise his foot, pushing against the glass to flip himself over and out of Nightwing's hold. Robin sent a series of quick punches to his abdomen then flipped him over the railing. Nightwing landed awkwardly in the chair Sparrow had been using. "I'm his son."

"You certainly are."

Daire rolled her eyes, walking upstairs.

"Boys," she muttered under her breath. She didn't know why Damian was so intent on reminding everyone of his blood. Was he trying to tell them their not good enough because they're not Batman's blood? But she wasn't his blood, either. Despite appearances, the sibling shared only one biological parent: Talia Al Ghul.

She knew Damian wanted to make his father proud. He was raised to believe he had the perfect genetics all possible flaws engineered out of him, a perfect human. Grandfather and Mother drilled in the greatness of their lineage from birth. Despite what the rest of the world might think, they were royalty.

Damian seemed stuck in the between opening his eyes and staying in familiar territory. Everything around him was changing. His Grandfather and Mother weren't the gods they made themselves out to be, his Father was very different than he imagined, his sister is suddenly thrown in his life. All that and his instinctive need to please everyone, to hear praise and be loved, wasn't being met. With his parents such opposites, he could make one happy but shatter the other.


	24. Chapter 22: The Choice

AN: Okay, I did have a better beginning written out, but somehow lost it. So I know the beginning two paragraphs are horrible, but I didn't feel like rewriting the scene. Sorry and hope you enjoy anyways.

* * *

 **~ The Choice ~**

Patrol had been uneventful- until she showed up.

While the other Leaguers fought Batman and Nightwing, Sparrow and Robin chased after her. She lead them down alleyways and across rooftops. She lead them past skyscrapers and the park. Eventually, she lead them into the sewers.

Having her children right where she wanted them, Talia stopped.

"Surrender, Mother," Damian ordered.

"Unlikely, son. I have a proposal." The siblings exchanged a skeptical glance but decided to hear her out. "Come with me. It's time to come home, Damian, Daire. It's time to make your grandfather proud."

Neither child responded, remaining silent.

"It's what you were raised for. It's your destiny," she continued, knowing she had their attention.

"We don't kill," Daire reminded.

"Not anymore," Damian agreed.

Talia sighed, "Your father's teaching, no doubt. But I can fix that with time. Come home, children. Damian, your father will join us soon. Let's be a family. A real family."

"What kind of family kills ruthlessly?" Daire questioned.

"A family that kills together stays together." It was a saying they had heard before. Once up in a time, they believed it, lived it.

"Or ends up killing each other," Daire twisted.

Talia glared. "I am your mother. I know what's best for you. I know your destiny! Come. Come with me. Fulfill the destiny you were born for, bred for, trained for."

"No," Damian denied, bluntly.

"Join me or die."

"Or opinion three: capture you!" Nightwing offered, swinging into the area. Talia dodged him easily, and Nightwing landed gracefully between Damian and Daire. "Did I miss anything?"

"Nothing important, Grayson," Damian reported.

"Leave, Talia. You're not welcomed here," a deep voice commanded. Suddenly, he was just a few feet behind her.

"Beloved," she smirked, her voice oddly soft. "It's been a while." She spun around on her heals, facing the Dark Knight. She sauntered forward, leaning into him. Batman made no move to embrace her.

"Enough, Talia. Leave Gotham."

"Return my children."

"They've given their answers. They don't want to go with you. Now leave."

"I am their mother!" she pressed but didn't scream. "I raised them. Don't you think I should get to see them?" She raised her hand to cup his cheek.

Batman grabbed her wrist, pulling it away. "You forced them to kill. I won't have my son or his sister be killers."

"They've killed before, Beloved."

"Now they know better."

She lifted her other hand, cupping his other cheek. "I've missed you, Beloved. How about this: If you join me, I'll leave them alone."

"I'm not joining you."

"Then I'm taking _my_ children back." Her voice stayed steady, calm. It was unnerving.

"I won't let that happen."

"We'll see, Beloved." Without further warning, Talia jumped, spinning mid-air to kick Batman. Batman raised an arm, blocking the brunt of the attack. Talia was agile and quick even in heels and sent a series of powerful blows to the Dark Knight, who dodged or blocked most of them.

"Mother!" Daire shouted. For a moment, Batman feared her alliance with her mother. "Mother, stop! Even if you do defeat the Batman (something not even Grandfather could manage), Damian and I would not go with you."

Neither of Damian's parents seemed to listen, continuing their duel and ignoring the girl's pleas.

The duel went on for a good hour before Batman finally pinned Talia.

"Leave," he commanded.

She flipped them over, so she was on top. "Unlikely, beloved, but for now, this is over." She released him, standing. She shot her children a look. "You will join me, as will you, beloved."

Batman didn't take the bait.

"Leave," he repeated.

"Until next time," she hummed, walking away. No one said a word until the echoes of her high heels disappeared.

"Are you two alright?" Nightwing inquired. He was still mad at them for whatever reason, but he put that aside to check on his youngest brother and sister.

"We're fine," Robin announced, standing tall. "But Mother will be back she won't-"

"I know," Batman interrupted. "I'll take care of it. Nightwing, take them home. And make sure they stay home."

"What?" Sparrow protested. "She's our mother, we should be a part of this."

"Yes, she's your mother. All the more reason to keep you two out of this."

"She raised us, we know her-"

"She raised you both to kill!" Batman growled, his voice echoing in the sewers.

"Is that what you're worried about? You'll think we'll kill our own mother?"

He opened his mouth to respond, but Sparrow didn't let him get a word in.

"Or are you scared that we'll go back to her? Is that it? After all this time, after all we've done, you still don't trust us?"

"Trust has to be earned."

"That goes both ways. And we've been doing our hardest to live up to your impossible expectations. We've held back our tuned instincts, our training, and years of-" she faltered, not really knowing how to go about the next word.

"Killing," Batman filled.

"My point is, we are changing. We're doing everything we can to please you, especially Damian. His entire life is being turned upside down, everything we learned as children is now filling us with doubt. And you don't really help with that. Your stupid black and white perspective that is a complete 180 from Mother and Grandfather doesn't help. You assume we won't change, that we can't be good enough, and I'm sick of it! It's like you want us to fail!" She paused, then quieter, questioned, "Is that it? You want us to fail? Do you hate us that much? Or is it just me? You know, you don't have to keep me around. You have no obligations to take care of me."

"That's not it," he denied, voice still hard and cold.

"Then what is it?"

He huffed, "I don't have time for this. Now go. Home."

"No."

Batman towered over her and dared, "What?"

"I said, 'no'. I'm not-"

"You'll do as I say!"

"You're not my father!" she roared back. "I don't have to do anything you say!"

She went to walk away but was pulled back. She twisted and jumped out of the grip, sending a series of quick punches that did nothing to the Dark Knight. Still, he made quick and efficient work of ending the rebellion. He kicked her legs out from under her as she landed, tied her wrists by her cape and let her fall face first onto the ground.

"Take them home," he ordered Nightwing, marching away before anyone else could protest.

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

At the Hall of Owls, all is quiet. Batman walks around, his past and present blending together. He holds up a feather, comparing it to an owl missing a few. To The naked eye, it looks like a match.

He remembers the nursery rhyme his father would tell him:

 _"Beware the Court of Owls-_

 _"That watches all the time-_

 _"Gazing from the shadows-_

 _"Behind cement and lime-_

 _"They see you at the hearth-_

 _"They see you in your bed-_

 _"Take care, beware, or they will send-"_

 _"A talon for your head," young Bruce finished. "Is- Is it true, Dad?"_

 _"Is there really a secret group of rich and powerful men who rule the city from the shadows? Who send their talon out to destroy anyone who dares to even mention their existence?"_

 _Young Bruce nodded, pulling the covers up over his chin._

 _"Absolutely not," his father assured._

 _"But what if it is?"_

 _"It's just a story, Bruce. There's no Court of Owls. It's not real. And even if it was do you think we'd ever let anything bad happen to you?"_

 _Young Bruce relaxed, feeling comfort in his father's words. "No. Never."_

 _"I promise, your mother and I will always be here to protect you." The loving parents tucked their only child into bed, giving kisses to his head._

Batman stares into the cold, empty eyes of the hollow owl.  
 _In his mind, a gunshot echoes, followed by the image of his bullet- filled parents. A memory jumps_ _out_ _, one of an owl flying overhead. It peered at Young Bruce, as if taunting the traumatized boy._

Batman steps back, looking around for anymore clues.

 _Young Bruce, in his early grief, gripped a picture of his family in his hands. A hoot distracts him, pulling him out of his thoughts. Small fingers clench around the frame, anger racing through him._

 _The young boy found himself upstairs, searching through a long forgotten room. Sure enough, the owl sat, comfy in it's nest._

 _But not for long._

 _The mourning boy grabs a bow and arrow he saw earlier in the room, takes aim, and fires._

 _The owl plummets to the floor, and the boy walks out, satisfied._

 _"I believed it," Young Bruce admitted. "I really did. I thought it was the Court that killed them. And I made up my mind to find them and make them pay for what they'd done. I knew that Harbor House was the Court's headquarters. I watched them. The richest men in Gotham, the most powerful." Young Bruce watched from the shadows, a determined expression seemingly permanent an his features. After the rich family left their home, he climbed in the window. Without care, he went through the rooms, going through dusty furniture that had been long forgotten. "And if I searched long enough, I'd find proof."_

 _"And did you?" a younger Alfred asked a child Bruce._

 _The depressed child pushed his hardly eaten food away, arms folded. "No, Alfred. Dad was right. It was just a story. It was just a story."_

 _Sobs the grieving child had kept in for so long broke free. He hid his tears in his arms. His guardian stopped cleaning to comfort his ward._

 _"We all look for meaning behind the tragedies that befall us. And sometimes the meaning is there. But sometimes, Master Bruce, terrible things just happen. No sinister plots. No secret societies. They just happen."_

Batman stared at an owl mask, memories tearing at his heart. He wouldn't let his son be like him. Damian was better than him.

Metal clanging in the shadows tore Batman out of his thoughts. He wasn't alone.

Above, three beings in armor drop down. They're twisted and bent as if they've been crammed in a small container but are still human.

The three initiate the fight, pulling out claws, katanas, and sais for their weapons of choice.

Batman deflects the first, flipping him over his shoulder and kicking the second in the gut. He throws a bat-a-rang at the third, but it's smacked away. The third does a flip, blades coming out of the toes of his boots and cutting Batman across his chest.

Batman grunts. He underestimated them. Won't happen again.

He backs as the third follows through on his attack. He finds himself between the first and the third, with one to his back and the other to his front. Batman fairs well at first, exchanging blows and blocking moves.

He breaks the first's elbow, forcing the blade to slip from the grip. It falters as he finishes with an elbow to the face. A sure knock-out move. The third comes back, swiping claws at him. He raises his arm out of harms way, bringing it back down on the third's back.

The hood caught on Batman's glove, revealing a zombie- like creature. Both the first and the third stood up, bones snapping back into place.

The second strikes from behind, and Batman throws his Bat-a-rangs to deflect the ninja stars flying at him. But he misses a sai that embeds itself into his shoulder. He lets out a hurt grunt but carries on. The third talon- as he'll later know their called- is pushed back.

He ducks as the third talons comes at him but gets a nasty cut as the second flies back into action. It isn't long before he's using the armor in his suit to deflect blades. He gains a few more cuts before throwing the second one off him again.

The first comes up to fight him, occupying Batman while the second recovers. But before the second talon can rejoin the fight, the explosive planted on his back tears him to shreds.

The bomb is of little notice as the fight continues. The clang of the blades against armor rings through the Hall of Owls.

Morals aside- they're already dead, right?- Batman twists the neck of the one he's fighting. It doesn't slow the talon down, and Batman kicks it a good ways away as the third jumps in.

But he only gets a few exchanges before it's two against one. The fighters are skilled and he weakens with every cut or stab. But nothing he does seems to affect them.

He's losing; he knows. But he can't quit. He's too stubborn to.

Being thrown through a glass case doesn't change that. And he tries other tactics to take the talons down. Electrocution fails, so he aims his grappling hook, takes the fight to the roof.

But he's tackled and falls back down. He can barely move as the talons close in. But then they screech, moments before Batman's gets his fatal blow, and turn into puddles of goop. Their armor and masks clang to the ground as Batman grunts, his breathing heavy and shallow.

Before he blacks out, he manages to push the emergency bottom in his belt.


	25. Chapter 23: The Offer

**~The Offer~**

Dick walked down the hall, his phone to his ear. "I'm sorry, Kori, really, but I'm stuck babysitting." Pause. "No, I'm not kidding. You're wearing what?" he whined. Bruce owed him big time. "The red one? With the lace? And the thong? Please. Don't tell me any more. Tomorrow night, I promise." He continued towards his newest brother's room, opening the door. "We'll-" and it was empty. He checked Daire's room: empty. "Bruce is gonna bust a blood vessel."

His phone buzzed. Alfred. He answered it, not bothering with a greeting. "Master Dick, it's Batman. He needs you."

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

In a dark alley, a woman screams.

A thug pounds away at her husband as the second holds her back.

"Please don't hurt him," she begged.

You bastard," her husband curses, managing to throw a hit in. But it was futile. The thug kneed him in the gut.

"No!" she cried.

The thug beating her husband walked over, twirling his knife in his hand. She struggled to get out of the bigger one's grip but remained trap.

"How about a dance, old lady?" the thug suggested, using the knife to pop off one of the buttons on her shirt.

A bat-a-rang flies through the air, knocking the knife out of his hand. He stumbled back in surprise.

The small, new Robin lands on the thug with a grin, knocking him down.

"Mind if I cut in?"

The guy holding the woman shoves her away, pulling out a knife of his own. He charged at Robin, who deflected the heat and gave a few powerful and painful blows.

"Grab your husband and go." The tone wasn't friendly or soft, but the woman didn't wait, helping her husband away from the scene as fast as he could manage.

The thug charged at him again. And Robin took him down by dislocation the shoulder of his dominant hand.

"Get up, so I can hurt you some more," the boy commanded.

"Enough, man. We give up," the thug surrendered.

Anger still boiling in his small body, Robin proceeded to kick the man in the face. "Who said surrender was an option?"

The men's eyes widened with fear as Robin picked up their knife, twirling it expertly in his gloved hands.

Yet, Robin paused.

"What are you waiting for, Robin?" a deep voiced questioned. It was the same man as before, with the Dollmaker. "Men like this don't deserve to live. I won't finish it for you this time. The decision has to be yours."

With sirens in the distance and the thugs shivering in fear, Robin was a few seconds late in chasing after the armored man.

"Wait. Who are you?" he asks, chasing after him.

Sparrow scoffed, shooting a net to trap the thugs before following her brother.

"My name is Talon. Come on." The make their way to the roof, Talon leading them to a wide, opened room.

"What is this place?"

"Home." Talons turns on the light, allowing Robin and Sparrow to easily look around. "You can speak freely here. My respect for Batman and all he's achieved is high. But there are lines he won't cross. Perhaps out of fear or some misguided moral code. There are no lines I won't cross in order to reach my goal.

"So you've come to Gotham to," Robin questioned, trailing.

"To do what Batman refuses to do. Eradicate crime and criminals once and for all. No lines. No limits. No rules." To enforce his point, Talon plunged his sai (the type of knife) into the mannequin. He repeats his thrusts, yanking one sai out as the other dives in.

"You're saying the end always justifies the means," Sparrow clarified.

"If the goal is a worthy one."

"Who decides what's worthy?" Robin challenged.

Talon didn't back down. "That takes an exceptional human being."

"Like you?"

"And you." Talon handed them each a sai.

Robin took it, got a good feel of the new weapon, and threw it into the fake forehead. A sure kill. Sparrow did the same, striking an eye. Robin walked over, plucking the weapons out. He handed them back to Talon.

"Keep it. A gift."

"Why me?" Robin asked, tucking the gift into his belt after handing Sparrow hers. "Why us?"

"We're kindred spirits. I've been watching you for some time. I want you to join me."

"And if I say no?"

"When you've made your decision, use this to contact me." Talon handed him a handheld remote, a button at the top. It wasn't big, but suspicious enough since the device was easily handed over. "It's not a tracking device. Feel free to give it a thorough inspection."

"I will," the young man assured.

"Oh, and one last thing. Don't tell him about me."

"Not a word," Robin promised, more out of childish rebellion than anything. He flipped his hood to cover his features.

Talon tossed a pointed glance at Sparrow.

"She won't either."

"Who is she?"

Robin didn't want to deny their relationship but didn't know if it was revealing too much. He glanced back at her, letting the decision become hers.

"I'm his sister."

"And if he comes with me?"

"Batman is next to nothing to me. If my brother goes with you, so will I."

Talon nodded in acceptance. After one replacement and got two. She had the same style as Robin and being siblings, he was pretty sure she had as much potential as Robin.

He flipped the lights, all three easily escaping into the darkness.

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

Not too long after the secret meet up, the young duo climbed in through Damian's window.

The second both sets of feet hit the ground, the lights flipped on. They froze.

Busted.

"Where were you?" Bruce demanded.

Damian and Daire's minds flew passed the question, seeing the brutal state their father/ adoptive father was in.

"What happened to you?" Damian asked.

"Are you okay?" Daire fretted. They came closer, expressions softened in worry.

"You don't get to ask questions," Bruce blocked. "Now, where the hell were you two?"

Damian quickly hid his concern, answering with a blunt, "Out."

"Where?"

"Just out," Daire answered, keeping it vague. With Bruce's unnecessary and uncalled for attitude, her protective wall shot back up.

"'Out' has suddenly become a far more dangerous place.  
What's this?" Without further warning, Bruce snatched Talon's gifts from their belts.

"That's mine," Damian protested, reaching for the sai.

"Hey!" Daire shouted, reaching past Damian to try and snatch it back.

Bruce held it out of the children's reach. "I don't think so."

"So, what are you gonna do now, build a dungeon and lock us up in it?" Damian dared, sarcastically.

"Despite what you may think, I'm your father, Damian, not your jailer."

"A biological accident doesn't make you my father. And it sure as hell doesn't make me your son," Damian argued. There was a pause, silence lingering as Damian's words surprised everyone, including himself.

"There's a school in Switzerland run by a retired general who knows far more than I do about boys and discipline. And, Daire, there's a school in Maine for troubled girls. Try this again, that's where you'll be spending the next year," Bruce warned, glaring at the young duo. He walked out.

But Dick wasn't done. He sent them stern looks, pissed.

"You really played me for a fool."

"Not hard to do."

Dick turned his back before silently sighing. He had been close to the pair a while back, but what had changed? Something was off about them, confusing them and clouding their minds. Not that they'd share or admit it.

He followed Bruce out of the room, closing the door behind him.

He watched Bruce lock the pair of sais in a safe.

His demeanor dropped, no longer in punishing mode. Sometimes, he hated being a grown-up. "You know, I did my share of sneaking out too back in the day." Honestly, Dick wasn't as mad as he was worried.

Bruce was, too, Dick knew. He just had a different way of showing it.

"Those things are out there, Dick. If Batman's a target, so are they."

"Then talk to them about it."

"He doesn't listen."

"And Daire, she listens."

"Sometimes. But she'll go along with whatever Damian does. Her brother means the world to her. No, I'd have to get through to Damian."

"But, Bruce, he's just-"

"He's not you, Dick. Before I took you in, you had loving parents. You had a heart."

"And he doesn't?"

"That's not what I mean. Or is it? I don't know," he sighed, frustrated. "Maybe biological ties aren't enough to make a man a father. Or a boy a son."

Damian, who had his ear to the door, turned. Daire pulled away, watching her brother.

She whispered, "We could always go back to Mother."

"No. I- I don't want to," Damian denied, not looking back. He was confused about a lot of things, but that he was sure of. "I- I just want to belong somewhere."

A hand grasped his.

"You do belong somewhere. You just have to make that choice, it's your decision."

"And you?"

Her hand squeezed his, comforting. "And we belong at each other's side. I'm not leaving you again. That's a promise."

Damian allowed a soft smile to grace his lips.

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

"I thought you upgraded the security wall," Dick inquired, watching Robin and Sparrow effortlessly 'sneak' out.

"I did."

"I, uh, I shut the outgoing system down, sir," Alfred confessed.

Bruce turned in his chair, clearly angered. "Why?"

"Master Damian said he felt like a prisoner in his own home. I thought if he tried to leave again and saw that there was nothing keeping him here, that you did trust him, then-" he tried to explain. "Sometimes, you have to have a little faith, sir."

"Since when have I been a man of faith?"

The answer seemed obvious, but his nightly adventures said otherwise. He'd have to be as crazy as the Joker to dress up as a giant bat, swing from skyscrapers, and go against gunmen with bat-a-rangs and not believe in faith.

And, other than taking in a gazillion children and. . . some other stuff. . . he's not crazy. Not as crazy as the Joker, anyhow.

"You did the right thing. They'll be back," Dick assured, understanding where Alfred was coming from

"They'd better be," Bruce growled, marching away.

Alfred and Dick stood side-by-side, watching.

"He'll get over it, won't he?" the butler hoped.

"He never gets over anything."

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

Two small figures balanced on a gargoyle high above Gotham City. Robin held Talon's beacon in his hand, going over his thoughts one last time.

"Are we just not good enough?" Sparrow wondered aloud, speaking the thought plaguing both their minds. "Not for Mother, not for Father?"

"Am I just a killer?" Robin asked, mostly himself. "Is that all I'll ever be? Is that all Father sees us- sees me- as? The cold blooded killer we were raised to be?"

"We can do more. We can change; chose our own destiny." but it sounded like Sparrow was trying to convince herself as much as her brother. "Can't we?" She looked down at her hands, seeing all the blood that had long since been washed away. Still, in her young mind, the blood was as fresh as the day it spilled.

He was trying to change, and so was Daire. Daire was doing so much better than him, yet even she wasn't good enough for the Batman. If Daire wasn't, how could Damian ever be?

"Do- Do you think leaving is the best thing to do?"

Sparrow took his free hand, promising to stay with him. She didn't know the answer, but she'd have his back throughout it all.

Maybe he didn't belong with either of his parents. But he'd find his own place in this world. And with his sister by his side, he could do anything.

Confident, he clicked the button.

A few miles away, Talon looked out, smiling under his mask. He had his replacement for the ritual. Two of them.


	26. Chapter 24: The Opportunity

**~ The Opportunity ~**

"Running a little late, Samantha, but I should be there in fifteen minutes," Bruce told his date, weaving through Gotham traffic in a small but luxurious car.

"I'm not a woman who likes being kept waiting, Bruce. But I'll make an exception for you."

"Well, then, I'll do everything in my power to make sure your patience is-" he trailed off, watching a car speed just to leap in front of him. Something wasn't right. "Hang on a minute, Sam."

"Is something wrong?"

Three more cars surrounded him.

"I'm not sure."

He tried swerving, even lightly tapping the other cars in warning.

"Bruce?" she asked, worried.

"I'll call you back." He hung up, focusing on out maneuvering the cars chasing him.

The car beside him revealed two people in owl masks. The cars on either side took turns ramming into him. When he had enough, he hit the brakes. The car behind him slowed in response, creating a gap. Before the other cars closed back in, he slipped out.

Before he made it far, he was slammed against the highway cement railing. He hit the brakes again, going to the car's other side.

It didn't work. Another car trapped him on his exposing side, and they both slammed into him. He hit the brakes again, and the cars ended up slamming into each other, with one spinning out of control.

Bruce accelerated, trying to escape. But when he hit a traffic delay, he spun the car around, facing the three remaining cars head on. He swerved passed the first two but collided with the third. The crash sent his smaller vehicle in the air.

He didn't have time to recover from the accident before the masked figures were yanking him out of his car. Two men dragged him to two other masked figures.

"What the hell is this?" he demanded.

"An opportunity." A needle jammed into his neck, and darkness took over. "And one you should be extremely grateful for."

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

Bruce didn't know how long he was out. When he came to, he was in a large room. Looking up, he saw rows of expressionless owl masks, each hiding it's owners features.

"Welcome, Mr. Wayne," the masked man in the white suit and black hood greeted. He was obviously the leader, his perch separated from the others.

"Not exactly a warm welcome."

"If we'd wanted you dead, you wouldn't be here now." Yes, because that was so comforting. Bruce forced himself to resist rolling his eyes.

Instead, he settled for: "Who are you?"

"The Grandmaster of the Court of Owls."

Bruce's eyes narrowed. "I would say the Court of Owls is merely a legend."

"A legend we are, but one rooted in fact. There was a time when the Court of Owls stood behind every wall, in every shadow. We whispered and Gotham trembled. Not a leaf fell without our permission: a golden age."

"But all golden ages end."

"A faction rose against us that even our talons couldn't stop. We were forced to retreat, but we never surrendered. And now-"

"You're back. Why?"

"Because we care, Mr. Wayne. Just as our fathers and grandfathers and great-grandfathers cared. We are, and always have been, the sons and daughters of Gotham's wealthiest. We know far better than the rabble what's best for our city."

"In other words, you want to control Gotham," Bruce summed.

"How else to restore a city that's spiraled into chaos? That's become a cesspool, a charnel house? A magnet for freaks, lunatics and delusional vigilantes? We have a vision of Gotham's future, Mr. Wayne. And so, we understand, do you." The overhead lights dimmed as a new light took over. His model of Gotham- of what could be Gotham- rose before him, raising suspicion. He had only showed Samantha that. . . In the midst of his project, a pedestal holding a white owl mask rose. "We invite you to join your vision to the Court's. Together, we can raise Gotham City up and return her to glory."

Bruce picked up the mask, inspecting the expressionless and artificial face.

"That deluded vigilante? He's somewhat territorial about this city. And not very fond of people like us. How do you plan on dealing with him?" Like us. A subtle hint he gravitated towards the Court. And the questioning. Couldn't seem too eager to join, that'd raise suspension. He also had to know if they knew of his later ego.

"He's being dealt with even as we speak," the Grandmaster assured.

They didn't. Good.

"I can't say I'm not intrigued by the offer. But I'd like some time to think it over." He put down the mask he had been offered, a tiny tracking device sticking to the edge. He didn't know where he was, but he'd find out soon enough.

"Of course, Mr. Wayne. But not too much time. Sleep well."

Bruce's face contorted, confused. As masked court members surrounded him, he realized what was about to happen. "Hey." He struggled, but did nothing to reveal himself, succumbing to the drug induced darkness. "Unh. Unh."

When he awoke, him and his wrecked car were sitting just outside the fence of Wayne Manor. He pulled out the his phone, taking note of the red tiny on the map of Gotham City.

He had them.

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

Sparrow and Robin were at another standoff. Talia, hand on hip, stood before them.

"I won't give you another chance," Talia spoke matter-of-factly.

"Our answer is still no," Sparrow repeated.

Talia turned slightly, directly at her youngest. "Damian?" And the boy was torn. His loved his mother, and she paid much attention to him. His mother and grandfather devoted years to him, training him to lead the world. They got him only the best, made sure he was the most powerful him he could be.

But Daire loved him. He knew his mother loved him, too, but Daire's love was different. She held a kindness towards him. She didn't have such high or stressful standards for him. She still expected much, but from a different aspect. She expected his safety and happiness. She wanted him to be himself, no matter how disgraceful or murderous he was. Now, he knew she would like him to be kind, but she didn't demand it. She demanded nothing from him. She just loved him.

He kept his expression neutral, knowing who's side he stood by.

" _Make him great,_ " his mother had told his father. Not take care of him, not be kind, not be patient. _Make him great._ Daire didn't- wouldn't- have said that. To her, he was great, regardless of his achievements. He was naturally talented, intelligent, and thoughtful. She loved the instinctual qualities he had.

And Daire didn't lie to him. She gave it to him straight, no matter what. Even if she disagreed with him, she respected his decisions.

And his father. His stubborn, thick- headed, unwavering, arrogant father. He hadn't received his approval yet. And with the high pedestal he held his father at, his heart yearned for it.

An assassin leapt into the roof, face covered and sword strapped to his waist. The assassin spoke softly into Talia's ear. Both pairs of ears strained to hear what they could.

"It's all done... tech acquired... he's ready... information gathered... in place..." and more they couldn't catch.

Talia nodded, then gave Damian another look. "Damian?"

"No," he finalized.

Her eyes narrowed but took his word. She spun on her heels, disappearing into the Gotham night.

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

"I sense a resistance in Wayne, Grandmaster," a court member expressed his concern. "He could present a problem, as his forebears did."

However, the Grandmaster didn't share his worries. "No. He plays to the crowds with his bleeding heart and grand gestures. But it's all spectacle and ego. At his core, Bruce Wayne is one of us."

"I hope you're right."

"In my experience, the Grandmaster is rarely wrong," Talon inputted.

Doors revealing a room of coffins opened, and the Grandmaster led them all forward.

"Your confidence touches me, Talon. How is it going with the boy?"

"He's taken the bait." They stood in the middle of the room, where the floor lowered to a secret lab. Generations of Talons floated in their containers. Their bodies preserved in the liquid. "Him and his sister."

"Sister?"

"The new vigilante, Sparrow."

"I see."

"And your work here?" Talon asked, politely.

"Progressing." As the floor settled, an alarm went off. The temperature in the capsules were dropping. "Bring that setting up. Too cold and they'll shatter like glass."

"Yes, Grandmaster." Quickly, the tech did as he was told. The alarm shut off. "Just imagine. Some of these warriors are over a hundred years old. I envy them; their immortality."

"Envy?" Talon repeated. "You saw what happened to the talons at the museum."

"They survived outside the caskets for more than eight hours. The group before that lasted only three," the worrying member pointed out.

"And by studying our failures, we've refined the resurrection process. These men will be able to live for a full day before returning for regeneration."

"Immortality. But only twenty-four hours at a time," Talon reworded.

"It certainly beats the alternative."

"And when these indestructible warriors rise, you'll be their general and lead them in a war on Gotham that will reclaim this city for the Court."

"After I undergo the ritual that will make me like them?" he reminded.

"You'll die, yes, but you'll be reborn as something miraculous."

"One man's miracle is another man's damnation," he pointed out.

"We've trained you since you were a child- lifted you out of the gutter, and you dare to-"

"Not a soulless thing, Talon: a god. A great destiny awaits you. And I know you will willingly embrace it."

"If that's what the Grandmaster wants," Talon accepted, bowing.

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

 _Mother doesn't care_ , Daire realized. _Not about us, not about Damian._

"What are you doing?" a deep voice asked. It didn't frighten Daire. She had heard the clock move. She knew she wasn't alone.

"Thinking."

"About?"

"Mother," she admitted, coming across a file labeled The Mad Hatter. She had studied this villain recently, she remembered. She overheard her mother speaking with Heretic about someone named Jarvis recently, she remembered.

" _...tech acquired..._ " she had heard that night.

She leaned forward, opening the file.

"What is it?" Bruce asked, noticing her sudden stiffness.

"Something I overheard Mother saying. It might be nothing."

"It's not nothing."

"Clever, detective."

"Tell me."

"When I finish, I promise I'll tell you all of it."

He huffed but let her be. "Don't stay up too late. You have school tomorrow." It wasn't really school. Just a few hours of training with Bruce then studying with Alfred. Any protests from Damian or Daire about lessons they already knew went ignored. If they wanted to go on patrol as Robin or Sparrow, they'd do what Alfred tasked them with.

"Ugh!" she protested, throwing herself back into the chair like a normal teenager. "Don't remind me!"

He couldn't help but smirk, returning up to the manor.

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

Daire hadn't meant to spend half the night going through files and researching. Truly, she had planned to be finish her work before three in the morning. But time slipped away.

She was close but not close enough. Jarvis Tech was working with her mother, Daire knew that, but why? With his skills, it couldn't be good.

" _Join me or die,_ " Mother had said.

By the time Daire had made her decision, the tips of the sky were blurring into a pinkish orange, calling out the coming of dawn. She didn't have much time. Luckily, she didn't need much time.

She made her way through Gotham, knowing exactly where she was going.

She landed silently by the familiar figure, who was watching a few Leaguers pull off a train from the skylight. The lights dim, the shadows moved in unison, confident and swift.

"I knew you'd come."

"Heretic," she greeted in kind.

"Daire."

"Tell Mother I'm in. Tell her I'll make Grandfather proud, I'll do as she wishes, as long as she leaves Damian with his father."

"Tell me yourself, child."


	27. Chapter 25: The Betrayal

**~The Betrayal~**

Leaving had been easy. After Daire's disappearance, Tim, Jason, and Dick left the manor, all making up pretty excuses as to their early departure. Damian had went up to his room, Bruce to the cave. Even Alfred had wondered off to be alone.

Without any supervision, with a heavy and hurting heart, Damian threw on his Robin outfit and climbed out the window. The defense systems were still shut off, making it too easy.

Tears pricked at Damian's eyes under the mask. Daire wouldn't have left without telling him. But then she had. She hadn't even left a note. He wouldn't have believed it if Bruce hadn't shown him the footage. Damian, himself, had scanned through it, finding it unaltered. He had stomped away, wordlessly.

He still couldn't believe it. Daire would never leave him like that- like this. Even when she left the League of Assassins, she snuck in to wish him farewell. She dotted on him with hugs and kisses until she had to leave.

He felt hollow. He wasn't good enough. He wasn't entirely sure what he did wrong, but he knew he'd prove himself. He'd prove his worth. Damian Al Ghul Wayne was trained from birth to be the best, and that's what the boy was.

But it still hurt. He felt empty. There wasn't a warmth to fill his aching chest. He was alone. Completely and utterly alone.

He landing softly in the loft Talon called home.

Maybe not completely alone.

Talon wouldn't leave him. Talon saw something in him even Bruce- the Batman- didn't. Talon needed him, even if Daire didn't.

He wandered a few steps in before stopping. Hood over his pained features, he stilled, letting the shadows swallow and bend around him. He waited, standing silently until Talon returned.

"Hello, Robin."

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

"Your grandfather would be proud. I'm proud."

Tender but firm hands gave a gentle squeeze to young shoulders. Daire schooled her features at the coaxed words, remaining neutral.

Returning to the League of Assassins wasn't something Daire particularly wanted. But it was necessary.

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

"So I put four bullets in Big Frankie's head," the gang leader bragged as a server handed him his food. The server put in extra effort to not look at the man hanging by his arms from the ceiling. It was always best to not look. "He never saw it coming. I was twenty- three years old, and with those four shots, I took control of all the crime families in the east end. By the time I was thirty, I'd taken half the city.

"Heh. You got stones, Mr. Draco, that's for sure," his thug complimented.

"Stones alone ain't enough, Gene. You gotta have brains too. And let me tell you- Big Frankie? He had brains. All over the room." The room busted out laughing at the morbid joke. So caught up in laughing, Mr. Draco chocked on his chicken leg.

He stumbled back, right into Talon. Talon wrapped his arms around the crime boss, performing the Heimlich maneuver.

Draco turned in appreciation. "Holy Jesus. I might've croaked on the spot if not for-" Talon stepped into the light, stopping him in his tracks. "Who the hell are you?"

"I'm the evening's entertainment." He pulled out two blades. "Can I get a volunteer from the audience?"

No one was willing to comply. They all pulled out guns, shooting mercilessly at Talon, who rolled back into the shadows.

Robin came from the ceiling, taking a few down. Together, the deadly duo took out Draco's men.

"I can pay you," Draco tried to compromise. "More money than you've ever seen."

Robin kicked him as he tried to crawl away. "I don't give a damn about money. What I care about is payback. For the lives your drugs have ruined." He put all his anger into his kicks, kicking as often and as powerfully as he could. "For the widows and orphans left in your bloody wake."

"You wanna help widows and orphans, punk, go join the Salvation Army."

Robin jumped, landing on his knees in the middle of Draco's chest.

"Finish him," Talon ordered, putting a knife in the boy's hand.

He brought the knife up to Draco's neck then hesitated, unsure. He pulled back. "We found enough evidence to put him away for the rest of his life."

"Finish him," Talon insisted.

"He's already finished," Robin protested, putting distance between himself and Draco.

"Hey. Ain't you the Batman's brat?" Draco asked. In retaliation, Robin made him kiss his boot.

"Not anymore."

As he left the room, he flicked the knife in his hand, cutting the rope from the man hung on the ceiling. The man crashed down, his wrists and arms aching from the sudden blood flow. His gag kept his grunts quiet, and he watched the hooded figure make his exit.

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

Talia didn't ask twice; Daire didn't want any doubt. She knew what she was getting herself into. She expected this test of alliance.

Her sword slid out of its sheath with the familiar grate. One hand rested on the sheath at her waist, she used her hips to put momentum into the swing.

Daire didn't flinch as the man's blood sputtered across her face. The man's eyes widened in shock. A kid. He spent his last moments staring into the blank eyes of a child who had obviously seen too much.

A mix of strangled gasping and gurgling emitted from him as his hands went to his neck, then the ground. His strength quickly faded, his life draining with the growing puddle of blood.

Blood. So much blood.

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

Talon waited several minutes on the roof. He felt more than heard Robin's presence when it finally arrived.

"I know you're there. If you've got something to say, say it."

Out of the shadows, Robin popped out. "I just wanted to tell you that I gathered up the evidence."

Talon made his way to Robin in a single bound, forcing himself into the boy's personal space. Robin stepped away, his back against the wall of the roof ventilation openings.

"Draco's got an army of lawyers that have kept him out of prison for years. But we could have erased him from the equation. Three nights we've been out here together. Three nights I've allowed the Batman to come between us. But no more. Now is the time to step across that line, become what you were born to be. Or I promise you, I will find someone else."

"It's just- I have to be sure."

Talon knew exactly what was holding the child back. "His voice is still in your head. ' _Justice, not vengeance._ ' His voice is wrong. He's like a father to you, isn't he? You look up to him."

"Far from it," Damian immediately denied. "But, yes, I guess I do look up to him."

"I had a Batman in my life. He was a thief. A damn good one. And from a very young age, he made certain I was too. I was his shadow. His echo. I worshiped him. And more than anything, I wanted to please him."

"And did you?"

"No. No matter what I did, how hard I tried, I was never good enough. But what could I do? Not long after that, I was recruited by a secret society, the Court of Owls. They took me in, raised me, trained me. Gave me strength and purpose. What they did for me, I want to do for you."

A dark figure landed on chimney nearby. "You've done quite enough," Batman called out.

Robin stood on guard. "How did you-?"

"Not too hard to track, considering the bloody trail you two have left."

"This is where you choose sides once and for all," Talon decided, running away.

Batman went to chase after him, but was stopped by a, "No," and his son.

"We've got to stop him. You don't understand. He's part of something bigger. He's using you, Robin, to get to me."

"Right. It's all about the great Batman," came the sarcastic, bitter reposte. "Well, for your information, he sees something in me that you don't."

"I don't have time for this," he huffed, pushing Robin aside. "Now, get out of my way before-"

The great, almighty Batman stopped in his tracks as Robin pulled out a bat-a-rang, blocking his path.

"Before what?" the boy challenged.

"Talon's right about one thing. The choice you make tonight will define you for the rest of your life."

Batman walked passed him, pulled out a grappling gun and started to follow Talon's trail. Effortlessly, Robin threw the bat-a-rang, and Batman fell back to the roof.

Robin initiated the fight, sending crippling blows his father's way. Batman didn't respond the way Robin hoped, simply dodging or blocking every attack Robin sent his way. None of his hits were hitting their marks, his father was too skilled a warrior.

So Robin changed up his attack. Swept Batman's feet from under him- or tried- the sent his back with a kick to the abdomen. Before the Dark Knight recovered, the Boy Wonder threw a smoke bomb in his face.

Okay, now Batman was getting annoyed. Really annoyed.

Robin leapt into the smoke, planning on keeping the upper hand, but Batman finally fought back. Robin flew back out of the smoke, where Batman gave the boy serious blows. One sent Robin forward, and Batman used the cape to yank the boy back and deliver another blow. Robin let out sounds of pain, but Batman continued his assault.

Robin finally got some hits in, and the real fight began.  
The exchanged blows under Robin fell off the roof. He used a grappling hook to catch his fall. Batman leapt after him, handcuffing the boy to his own line. Robin dangled by his wrists in the air while the Dark Knight landed on the roof of the lower buildings.

Of course, it didn't take the boy to pick the handcuff locks and free himself.

The fight continued before he hit the ground, and they quickly fell through a skylight. During the descend, Batman held his son close, grunting as his body took the blunt of the falls. The tree (but didn't they fall through a skylight?) branches broke from their combined weight. And the dynamic duo hit a stone statue before meeting the ground.

Finally torn apart, Robin quickly picked up the fight. Batman didn't have time to recover before he got many punches to the face.

Robin let out a battle cry, holding a broken, sharpened branch over his head. His training, instincts, and brain told him to make the kill. It would be so easy, and all this internal conflict would end.

"If this is what you want, then do it. Do it."

He let out his final cry, digging the branch into the ground beside his father's head. Batman didn't even flinch.

A dead father wasn't part of what Robin wanted.

"Now, let's go home."

"My home isn't with you. It never was."

And he ran off.

He returned to Talon's "home" to find it vacant. On the mannequin Talon drove his sai through, he found a note.

"Glad you made the right choice. Be back soon. Wait for me. -T" it read.

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

Talia kept silent. Satisfied, she gave a curt nod to the daughter who didn't see it. Daire stood there, chest clutching. She swallowed, resisting the tears wanting to fill her eyes.

Blood. So much blood.

And another life.

What example was she setting for Damian?

How disappointed would Bruce be? Hell, he knew where she was. How disappointed is he?

She ruined any chance to be a part of the strange but wonderfully loving family. But she couldn't sit and let her mother get away with this.

She wouldn't mind being alone forever as long as her beloved brother stayed with his father. Her pain was worth his safety. Her life worth his.

Damian was worth killing for.


End file.
